Numbers from Poland
by polski-doodle
Summary: / "Ludwig, what's wrong?" "You! That's it! I've never seen you before! Or have I? Please, tell me your name!" / Those who do not learn history are doomed to repeat it. And the world is doing exactly that. Ludwig now finds himself in the midst of his worst nightmares, making friends in odd nations, and trying to figure out what a strange girl is doing in his dreams.
1. The Beginning

**Hello, welcome to Numbers from Poland, my first fanfiction.**

 **This is a very in-depth story, with plenty of strange twists and turns. You may find yourself completely confused at times. The first few chapters are rather short, but the ending chapters are rather large. And of course, there are grammatical errors riddled throughout. But this is really the product of hours of hard work, so I hope you enjoy it.**

 **Human names are used, so I'm sorry if that confuses you. If I had to invent one, it should be easy to figure out who's who.  
**

 **This story contains - crude language, descriptive violence, mentions of suicide, Nazi paraphernalia,"yaoi," alcohol abuse, mental illness, and a few OC's. You have been warned. Continue at your own risk.**

 **I would like to say that a review goes a long way for me. I'm not going to nag you constantly for reviews, but it really is a nice treat to find a new little review.**

 **And the cover art is mine, sorry it doesn't pertain to Ludwig and him, but Toris is and will forever be my favorite.**

 **Without further ado, I present Numbers from Poland, the first story I've ever finished.**

 **Please enjoy.**

 **Polski-Doodle~**

* * *

The living room was dead silent, the only noise coming from the TV, playing the nightly news. Ludwig's entire family was gathered around it, waiting quietly for the dreaded words.

Elizabeta sat next to Roderich, the Austrian putting a protective arm around her like he used to when they were married. Basch held Lilli in his arms, the small girl already on the verge of tears. Gilbert was asleep on the couch, and Ludwig was in the kitchen, washing the plates from dinner. For the first time in a long while they had a family dinner, only after finishing their impromptu meeting.

Gilbert had suggested the meeting casually at breakfast that day, telling Ludwig that he had already invited everyone to their house. He hadn't realized just how much work actually would have to go into it, to try and cook for six people and clean a house in less than a day. Naturally, he'd thrown most of the work on Ludwig, who was less than pleased to learn they were going to hold a mini world conference in his house with only a few hours to prepare for everything. So Ludwig had to prepare dinner for everyone and clean up after Gilbert, said brother being very little help. By the time everyone arrived, Ludwig was exhausted and ready to strangle Gilbert.

The meeting was spent discussing the war taking over Europe and what they were going to do when their leaders decided it was time to fight back. Everyone was quite scared by the thought of this next World War, even if they didn't show it. Ludwig could tell by the way Roderich and Elizabeta held hands like they could be torn from each other at any minute, and how Basch looked nervously from one person to the next. Even Gilbert was on edge as Roderich spoke of the bloody battlefields in France. The typically obnoxious Prussian was eerily quiet, no random outbursts of laughter or annoying taunts. He just sat with his hands folded in his lap, listening intently to everyone's horror stories of the war going on around them. The way he just sat and listened terrified Ludwig more than any story of bloodshed and violence. The only other time Ludwig had seen Gilbert like this was during WWII.

"Is he seriously asleep?" Roderich huffed; poking Gilbert's foot like one might poke an animal with a stick. "Honestly, of all the times to doze off, he chooses now?"

"It's sort of ironic," Basch remarked, stroking Lilli's hair gently. "After all, the ass used to love a good fight. Where did all that violence go?"

"You're one to speak," Ludwig muttered under his breath, putting a stack of plates up in the cabinet.

"What did you say about me?" Basch snapped, turning to face Ludwig. "Why, you–"

He was interrupted by the TV; a reporter announcing yet another nation representative was missing. Basch dropped whatever snarky retort he was going to use on Ludwig, looking back at the TV. Ludwig clenched the damp tea towel he was using to dry dishes, hoping they wouldn't say Veneziano's name. _Please, don't say Feliciano,_ Ludwig silently pleaded. _Anyone but him._

"The personification of Norway, who goes by the name Lukas Bøndevik, was reported missing this evening. Shortly after, a call was made to one of Lukas' guards telling them Lukas was in fact captured and is being held in Poland," The reporter said calmly like she was talking about a lost puppy, not the man who represented Norway.

Of course, the normal humans weren't as scared about wars and personifications going missing. Almost no one could recall the tragedy of the World Wars. All they knew came from books, not firsthand experience like the countries had burned into their minds.

Ludwig's family remembered the wars all too well. Occasionally Ludwig would wake up screaming and crying from nightmares of the Third Reich. Sometimes he would have flashbacks, just from something someone said or a certain smell. He could never forget all the sobs of the children watching their parents be killed, how the fields in his country ran red with blood. He was haunted by the concentration camps, the smell of death that clung to the uniform he kept hidden in the back of his closet, a silent reminder of the war. The actions of long ago plagued him constantly, for which he could never forgive himself.

Shoving those thoughts aside, Ludwig hung up the towel and sat down by his brother. He glanced at the sleeping Prussian, snoring softly. He wished he could be that calm, not even the slightest bit worried about the war. He wished he was able to sleep during the night and not stay up pacing back and forth and making himself sick with worry.

The next world war, as people had begun calling it, was causing him more panic than it should. However, it wasn't the war itself that kept Ludwig up at night worrying. He had started, fought in, and ended a few of them himself, so the concept of warfare wasn't anything new to the German. Ludwig wasn't scared to get a little blood on his uniform or take someone's life without a second thought.

What frightened him was what happened to the personifications of countries.

Since nations can't truly die, anyone of them who was captured was tortured, having limbs broken and hair ripped out. In a much shorter time than humans they were almost fully healed, ready to repeat the vicious cycle. Ludwig spent many nights worrying about Feliciano because of this, praying that one of his few friends was safe. He could handle almost anyone else getting tortured besides his brother, but not Feliciano. He was too precious to be beaten.

The worst part of it all was the countries that had remained neutral were targeted. Everyone was trying to get their hands on one as if they were an expensive toy, not a person. Ludwig was under constant supervision, accompanied almost everywhere by several guards ready to give their life for him. Ludwig didn't like the idea of being constantly watched, but it was better than getting shot up or thrown in the back of a van.

Other countries weren't as lucky. Portugal was one of the first to be injured, having been stabbed thirteen times returning from a visit with his leader. The people who jumped him tore his chest up, even slitting his throat. But Portugal waited until they left and was able to get home with a knife still buried in his chest. This only made the urge to guard the nations stronger; even though Portugal healed quickly and assured everyone he was perfectly fine.

Recently, a group had attempted to hang Romania. While the killers laughed at his limp body, Romania was somehow able to undo the knot on the noose. Ludwig could only imagine the murders' surprise as Romania wriggled free and walked off with a snapped neck.

Then there were the countries that mysteriously went missing-in-action. Ukraine and Belarus had disappeared, not a trace left behind. The only evidence left behind was a somber note Belarus had saved on her laptop, dated July 24th. In it she wrote goodbyes to Toris, telling him how much she hated him. It was entirely unlike her, considering the two had just been holding hands and kissing at the last world conference.

The rest of the missing countries were captured by others. They were marched off to camps, forced to work day and night building weapons and bunkers used to kill their own citizens. A lot of the camps were unregulated, so they ranged from simple prisons to torture chambers. They brought back too many memories from the Second World War to Ludwig, the ones he had tried so hard to forget.

"What are we going to do if one of us has to fight?" Elizabeta whispered, clutching Roderich's hand even tighter.

"We'll stick together. We're family, after all," Roderich assured her, a faint smile on his worried face. "Except for Basch."

"Watch it, asshole. I'm as much of a part of this family as you are," Basch growled, glaring daggers at the Austrian.

"Oh, my bad. I didn't realize we accepted cheap goat farmers in my family." Roderich put his free hand on his chest in mock apology.

Basch stared the Austrian down, green eyes blazing. "I didn't realize we accepted men who marry people to solve their problems."

Roderich gasped, his face becoming red with anger. "You take that back, gun freak."

"Not until I'm accepted you lazy pianist," Basch smirked, clearly satisfied by how angry Roderich was getting.

The two of them continued to bicker, much to Ludwig's annoyance. Here they were, waiting to know if their country would fight or remain neutral, and all those two could do was argue about family.

Ludwig shook his head, looking back at the TV. The scene had changed from pictures of the French front lines covered in blood and debris. His chancellor was on now, giving a speech in front of a large crowd. They seemed very nervous, hands fidgeting and sweat on their forehead.

"Hey, Gil," Ludwig nudged his brother softly, trying to wake him.

"What…is it?" Gilbert moaned, turning away from Ludwig.

"My chancellor's speaking."

Gilbert shot up, tossing off the blanket. Elizabeta elbowed Roderich, snapping at him to stop fighting. Roderich argued with her for a minute, and then realized what was on the TV. Immediately he shut up, allowing the room to fall silent again.

The speech was mostly the same things everyone knew. They all knew of the camps in Poland, of the steadily growing empire that was Poland and Lithuania. Every country was against each other, even if they had a good relationship for years. Just days ago, Canada and America turned against each other. America supported Poland, while Canada felt Poland shouldn't try to take the Baltics into his tiny empire. Now Alfred and Matthew were at each other's throats, despite sharing the same blood.

Ludwig cautiously looked around the room, wondering if any of them would ever turn on him. Gilbert couldn't, and the tiny Lilli surely wouldn't fight him, but Basch and Elizabeta were liable to do some damage. The thought of looking down the barrel of a gun wielded by either of the two sent a shiver down his spine, wondering just how bad a bullet to the head could screw him up.

"And so," His chancellor announced, giving the audience a solemn look. "I have come to the conclusion there is only one thing to do."

Those words, dreaded by Ludwig beyond reason.

"We declare war on the Empire of Poland-Lithuania."


	2. The Enemy Talks in Kiev

Toris turned off the TV, falling back onto the neatly made bed. Yet another country had turned against them, joining the majority of Western Europe. How long would it be before Germany started to blitzkrieg the hell out of the Empire, making it crumble in a faster time than it could be built up? If it wasn't for America being the Empire's biggest ally, Toris would've been hysterical by now, making plans for surrender and trying to make sure no one would get hurt. But now that there were American troops in Poland-Lithuania, Toris didn't feel as panicky as he usually was.

"Hey, Liet?" Feliks called from the bathroom. "Can you bring me my tie? It's in the outside pocket of my suitcase."

"Okay, give me a second," Toris answered, getting off the bed. He grabbed Feliks' suitcase, removing a pink silk tie.

"Seriously? Do you think pink is appropriate for this?" Toris sighed as he handed it to Feliks.

"Why wouldn't it be?"

Toris leaned against the doorjamb, watching Feliks attempt to figure out how ties work. "You know, it's a huge event and all. Not some silly world meeting or thing like that. This could win us Ukraine."

"And I bet the Ukrainians all love pink." Feliks was getting slightly more frustrated, the knot looking more like a feeble attempt a child would make at tying their shoes than a Half-Windsor.

Toris took the tie from his hands, undoing the knot and skillfully tying it. Feliks mumbled something about how he could've done it himself, but Toris doubted that. The Pole had his strong points, but his pride was not one of them.

"Do you have your parts memorized?" Toris asked, adjusting his own tie in the mirror.

Feliks dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "Oh, please. I could do it in my sleep."

"Are you positive? Because I printed some copies just in case you needed them."

Feliks rolled his eyes as an answer, stepping out of the small bathroom.

"Is that a yes?" Toris laughed anxiously, pulling on the sleeves of his jacket. He was starting to get nervous, like he always did before any sort of public talk. Usually he could overcome it before they started, but this was much more serious than any other speech he'd done.

"Sounds like you're the one who'll need the copy."

"Whatever." Toris tried to put his fears far away, but all he could think of was how many people were expecting to see them. And what if he screwed up, or did something stupid?

He turned off the bathroom light, grabbed his briefcase, and followed Feliks down to the armored car waiting for the two. They quickly got in, hiding behind the tinted bulletproof windows. It was strange to be so protected again. The last time he had been treated like royalty was during the Soviet Union, when Ivan would've slaughtered anyone who laid a hand on Toris. It was weird to think that just a year ago, he'd been allowed to drive on his own, go out in his country without a guard, and visit other nation representatives without the promise that there would be no hidden weapons. Now they were guarded like priceless museum pieces, not somewhat humans.

"Do you want to go over the speech one more time?" Feliks suggested, twirling a strand of blond hair.

"No, I think we got it," Toris said, watching the city of Kiev go by. He wished he could be one of those people outside, not a care in the world about if they were going to have assassination attempts made on them. It would be nice to have a day free of worries every once in a while.

The rest of the ride was silent, Feliks keeping himself occupied by drumming his fingers. It was excruciatingly annoying to Toris, but he was more concerned about getting his nervousness to disappear. He tried taking deep breaths, but that didn't work. Then he went to thinking about happy things, but his mind was completely blank. The only things he could think of was his speech and the constant drum of Feliks' fingers. Toris was ready to snap all of Feliks' fingers off when the car came to a stop, and they were escorted out by two armed guards.

A much larger crowd than they had expected was crowded around the steps of Saint Sophia's cathedral, Feliks' choice site for the speech. It truly was a beautiful church, but Feliks had chosen it because it gave them the appearance that they wanted peace. If they had done it at the capitol building, it would've seemed like they wanted to overtake Ukraine rather than welcome them into their Empire. Or so Feliks had tried to explain, but it didn't really make that much sense to Toris.

When the crowd spotted the two, a loud roar of voices suddenly came about, people pointing at the two and shouting. Feliks love the attention, waving and smiling. Toris gave a few polite waves, but mostly hid his face as they were led to the podium. He was trying to keep his calm and remember his parts of the speech, repeating the words over and over as to not forget it.

Once they were standing above the crowd of people, Feliks waited until they were quiet to begin.

"Like, hello people!" Feliks started, waving. The crowd cheered, as Feliks had become rather infamous for his valley girl way of talking. He was much more of a crowd favorite than Toris, who could only offer a few smiles and a stutter when he got scared. Feliks was more of a people person, while Toris preferred to stand on the sidelines and watch.

"We've come here today for peace, not warfare. The Empire of Poland-Lithuania has no interest in like, attacking Ukraine. Instead, we want to be friends. Is that cool with you?" Feliks shot a glance at Toris, his green eyes gleaming. This calmed Toris down much more than anything, knowing he had Feliks at his side. Taking a deep breath, he pushed his nervousness aside and began talking.

"Countries have always been plagued by warfare. You can't escape it. It's human nature, to fight with others. Anyone can be drawn into the arguments, including the nation representatives. We're not some kind of perfect being meant to rule over the lands, but to live alongside our people." His voice was much quieter than Feliks' and was much shakier, but Toris could still be heard. The timing of his sentences was a bit awkward like it always was when he started talking, but he was much calmer than he had been at other speeches.

Feliks nodded in agreement. "And that's exactly why we're here. You see that big country that lives next to us? You guys know him as the Russian Federation. I personally prefer to call him Potato Nose, but call him whatever you want. He's pretty famous for being a terrible country, and once again he's living up to that. He's taking the things he claimed as his back into his land, trying to create a much bigger problem than he already is."

Now the two were beginning to fall into the rhythm that they had when they talked, a sort of back and forth pattern derived from all those years of being married. "Many of you have heard your parents or grandparents speak of the Soviet Union. Maybe a handful of you even remember it. Our lovely neighbor caused that, enslaving us like cattle. Both of us remember the years spent under the rule of the Russians." Toris felt Feliks grab his hand under the cover of the podium, and realized he was trembling. This almost always happened when he got to talking about the Soviets, but why did it have to happen now? "We have the scars of the people burned into our hearts; we have the memories of the cold and pain. And we don't want anyone to ever go through that again. You and your children make the future of this beautiful country, and if you too have to live in the Soviet Union that is trying to be reborn, your future that seems golden right now will quickly go grey."

"We want to prevent that. All of you have such a bright life ahead of you, one that shouldn't be wasted with suffering and warfare. When you live for thousands of years you have good years and you have bad years. I can't imagine what it's like to live with only a few decades on this Earth, and a portion of them is bad memories and things you can't talk about and laugh." Feliks gave Toris' hand a tiny squeeze, the persistent smile still on his face. "Trust me, you want good memories, ones you can laugh about for years to come and share with your children."

"This future is priceless. That's why you have to protect it, and the easiest way to do that is to join us." Toris looked at Feliks, wondering how he could be so calm. "Sure, we fight like the old married couple we are, and we may seem a bit intimidating, but we understand you. We understand the pain, the sorrows, and the seemingly endless depressions that haunt many of you. But we also know how to give you joy and happiness, to let you live in a world where you aren't standing in line for hours for a loaf of bread. One of the worst things I can remember from the Soviet Union was being banned from my own language. What sort of country is it when the people aren't even allowed to see their own flags, to recite words in the tongues their parents spoke, to sing the songs of freedom? It isn't a country anymore, it's a prison."

"If you join us, we'll give you protection. If they even make a move towards you, we'll send help to make sure this land never turns into a jail. We will let you have your flags, your words, your songs. Nothing will change, except our relationship between countries. No longer will we just be neighbors, but brother and sister, keeping you safe from the hungry bear that's trying to get into the house. We'll be there to kill it before it can even get close."

"All we ask is that you take our hand, and let us help you. We don't want your land, money, or people. We want to help. We want to live alongside you, like we're not centuries old, somewhat immortal beings, but human beings just like you." Toris scanned the crowd, trying to keep his own smile like Feliks always had on.

"So," Feliks held out his free hand, motioning for Toris to do the same. Still holding tight to Feliks' other hand, he reached out to the crowd.

"Will you take it?"

* * *

 **A/N: So this is new. It's sort of a jumble of ideas that somehow came together in the form of a speech. A lot of it came from listening to Mumford and Sons repeatedly until I had the ideas for Toris' parts. Feliks was pretty easy to write, but Toris is a special case.**

 **See you next chapter!**


	3. Brothers in Berlin

Ludwig collapsed on his improvised bed next to his brother, completely worn out. Gilbert didn't even look up from cleaning his gun. It was his form of relaxing in the evening, making sure all the parts were in perfect condition. Ludwig couldn't count how many times he'd returned and it had taken Gilbert a good few minutes to actually notice him, occasionally scaring him enough that he fell off his cot.

"You look like total shit today. What happened?" Gilbert sighed, taking a rare glance up from his gun. He too looked tired, dark circles under his red eyes.

"My battalion went up to the French front today. That bastard shot up almost all of us. He's trying to take Stuttgart all by himself. Don't know what happened to his little ally Spain, he seems to have gone home." Ludwig held his head, rubbing his temples to try and erase the headache that seemed to constantly follow him. "I can't believe they'd both side with Poland." Ludwig took off his own faithful rifle, handing it to Gilbert in hopes his brother would clean it. He really didn't feel like doing any sort of physical effort after being chased by the French army through a muddied battlefield.

"I'm not going to clean it for you just because your day sucked. Who cares if Francy-Pants whooped your ass? Not me, that's for sure. Do it yourself," Gilbert snapped, handing the rifle and an oiling rag to Ludwig.

Ludwig snatched the rag from his hand, taking his HK417 back. "You didn't have to be so rude."

A long period of silence between the two followed, filled only with the distant gunfire. Ludwig worked calmly on his gun, not even bothering to look at his brother. The click of machinery made a sort of rhythm Ludwig fell into, completely spacing out. He snapped back to reality when Gilbert cleared his throat, finally breaking the quiet between the two.

"I saw Roderich and Elizabeta today," He said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Ludwig examined the trigger on his gun. "And how were they?"

Gilbert paused, going back to work on his rifle. Ludwig turned to look him in the eye, getting quite irritated with his brother. "I asked how they were. I expect an answer."

Gilbert took a shaky breath, as if he could fall apart any second. "They were being marched off to camp by Feliks on a path near the border. Hundreds of Austrian and Hungarian soldiers were following them. We couldn't shoot because those damn Poles guarded the captives like they were the crown jewels or something. As for Roderich, he looked pretty bad. He was carrying Elizabeta on his back, who looked God awful. Hell, she looked pretty much dead."

At this point, Gilbert was trying hard not to melt. It was no secret to Ludwig that he had an eye for Elizabeta. That was one of the reasons he hated Roderich so much, other than the two being polar opposites. He bit his lip, blinking back tears. "Feliks caught a glimpse of me as we went back to camp. Said he's coming after Germany next, and we better hide our sorry asses before we get dragged off to Szczecin."

Ludwig was now struggling to keep his own stern face. Feliks had become quite notorious for his POW camps. They were designed them after the concentration camps in WWII, the ones Ludwig still had nightmares about. And now he was threatening to lock Ludwig away in the largest known one, Bolesność, literally the word pain in Polish.

Normally, Ludwig wouldn't be this terrified of Feliks. He could easily have the Polish brat on the ground begging for mercy. But he had teamed up with the Baltics, and they were literally unstoppable. After bringing down several armies, dragging the captives off to camps and beating them senseless, they were infamously heartless. The prisoners were forced to work all day, building things to use against their own nations. They were fed almost nothing. One lieutenant even heard the prisoners in Bolesność were turning on each other for food, a few going as far as cannibalism.

Feliks and the Baltics had brought down several nearby nations, gathering lots of prisoners. But their biggest victory by far was Russia. Not the entire country, but rather Ivan himself. He was being held in Bolesność, yet no one was trying to retrieve him. The country wasn't trying to get Ivan back, as he wasn't deemed important enough to use their military force to go after. He was seen as a disgrace to his country for giving in so easily, letting Toris and Feliks drag him away. His country was now focused on trampling China and Mongolia, leaving Ivan all alone in Poland. It was discouraging to hear of a country abandoning their representative only to go fight one of the representative's only friends. Feliks probably got a kick out of that, knowing how much he despised Ivan.

But, if Feliks could take down Ivan, Ludwig would be pathetically easy.

"Hey, don't psyche yourself out," Gilbert smiled, sensing how scared Ludwig truly was. He could always see through Ludwig's façade, even when Ludwig had somewhat convinced himself he wasn't scared. "That stupid little blond doesn't stand a chance against us. Roderich, well, he's a different story. He gets tired just thinking about work." Gilbert laughed a bit at his own joke, running a hand through his white hair that stuck up at several different angles.

Ludwig stared outside of their shared tent, his heart racing. "But Feliks has taken me down before. And he was only with Toris that time. What about with Eduard and Raivis?"

Gilbert came over and sat on Ludwig's bed, pulling him close like he used to do when his brother was young. "Nothing's going to happen, okay? We'll be fine as long as we have each other."

* * *

"Day 362," Gilbert announced loudly. "Almost two months since Feliks said he was going to attack us. Guess that douchebag was too afraid to come after the awesome me!" He laughed, scribbling furiously in a brand new leather journal a guard had bought him for his birthday.

Ludwig rolled over, a scowl on his face. Gilbert didn't notice, carrying on with his writing. "It's the middle of the night. Is that ever an acceptable time to be writing your diary entries?"

Gilbert stopped for a second and rolled his eyes, groaning like a dying cow. "Of course it is. When else would I have the time?" He turned back to his writing. "Sharing a tent with your little brother is not recommended. Grumpy the Crapwad hates late night entries."

"For a good reason too," Ludwig yawned. "And is that your new name for me? Grumpy the Crapwad? Real mature, Gilbert."

"Always have been," Gilbert nodded. "Love, Gilbert. P.S, I am awesome!" He exclaimed, slamming the diary shut dramatically.

"Are you done now?" Ludwig asked, hoping he could sleep again without a loud recap of the day.

"Yeah. Good night, Grumpy." Gilbert put his diary back under his pillow, pulling his covers over his head.

"Good night." Ludwig echoed.

Ludwig lay awake for a long time in the darkness. He kept trying to force himself to go back to sleep, but that wasn't working. Now that he had the chance to sleep, his body refused to. Just wonderful.

So Ludwig got up, threw on his boots and overcoat, and walked outside of the stuffy tent. The mandatory guard stood outside, looking quite tired. Ludwig wished he didn't have to be babysat all the time, but if he was going to fight in the war he was required to have at least one person watching him. Gilbert had a guard too, but he wasn't anywhere to be found at the moment. For a second Ludwig considered asking his guard where Gilbert's had gone, but he didn't want to try and make awkward small talk.

For the first time in a long while, he could gaze at the stars freely without the threat of being bombed. Just today they had finally destroyed the French air force, removing the skies of their noisy planes. The advancing Polish force had been pushed back enough that the main area being fought over was Leipzig. Ludwig hadn't seen the night sky in so long; he'd forgotten just how peaceful nights could be without the roar of machine guns or whistling of mortar fire. Berlin was finally quiet again, if only for a few short hours.

Even in the midst of World War Three, the skies above Germany were beautiful. An almost full moon floated in the inky sea of stars, illuminating the large camp. A cold winter wind blew across the open field, sending dried leaves everywhere. It truly was a picturesque night, save for the bloodied battlefields on the western side of the city.

Ludwig found himself wishing he could escape to somewhere else, instead of waiting for someone to make the first move in the outskirts of Berlin. He used to be stationed in Mannheim, but he had gotten moved when the higher ups figured that he would be much safer in Berlin. It made very little sense to Ludwig, how being closer to the enemy was considered safe. Although, Berlin was heavily guarded, much more so than Mannheim, so that might have been part of it. And If worst came to worst, the city still wouldn't get hit as hard as Leipzig, the military's new central base. Hopefully, Feliks would try to go to Leipzig first and completely forget about Berlin.

Both Feliks' team and Francis were encroaching on Leipzig, making him feel trapped in the middle. Francis was making constant threats that most likely would never happen, while Feliks' group was silently encroaching on the east side. France wasn't presenting much of a danger after being so easily pushed back, but Poland was preparing to launch an attack any day now. A large portion of Germany's group troops were fighting back Poland in Leipzig, leaving Berlin open. If the French and the Spaniards suddenly broke through the west lines and Feliks came in from the east, everything would be over in a heartbeat.

"Hey Gil?" Ludwig called, poking his head back into the tent. Ludwig wanted someone to talk to about this fear that was growing inside of him, someone he could trust to keep everything secret.

Sadly, that someone was fast asleep.

Ludwig sighed, holding his head. He might as well make the best of this moment of solitude, without an obnoxious Prussian.

And so he stood in the rarely heard quiet of the night, trying not to make eye contact with his guard. It was strange to have a time without mortar fire or gunshots. He'd become so accustomed to the sounds of warfare that the night seemed strange and almost terrifying without them. It was so scary to have peace, as it usually meant something horrible was bound to happen. Then he started to think of how much Feliciano loved to have a quiet night during warfare. Soon all he was thinking about was the happy Italian, remembering how much he annoyed Ludwig but also made him laugh harder than anyone he knew. Ludwig gave a tiny smile at the thought of Feliciano, doing something that threw the guard off completely.

He looked up at the stars and folded his hands, the words easily coming to mind.

For the first time in a long while, Ludwig found himself praying. He'd never really been one for praying and religious things like that, but he'd picked it up when he was with Feliciano in Africa. The Italian used to pray almost every night, asking for silly things like pasta, cute girls, or for England to give up. But Ludwig's prayer was much different than those Feliciano had made on those miserably hot nights. It wasn't anything formal, just a silent cry for help. Centuries ago when Gilbert used to drag him to churches on Sunday mornings, the young Ludwig had the old prayers memorized and would have to recite them begrudgingly. Now he was just making things up as he went. He asked for his forces to have the strength to fend off whoever got here first, guessing it would be Poland. He asked for his brother and Feliciano to stay safe, especially Feliciano. He prayed for the war to end, the one that had already claimed so many lives in such a short time.

Germany been fighting for almost a year now, yet he entered it two years later than most countries. The casualties were way too high for only a year of fighting, the numbers already up in the hundred thousand range.

It had all started with the people, fighting over beliefs, rioting against their government's decisions. It was almost humorous how the people would ask for something and then riot against it when it finally happened. At first, the nations thought it would pass. The same things had happened thousands of times, and the people eventually got over it. People were strange things, as they didn't have the wisdom one gets from hundreds of years of life.

Then the nations started lashing out at each other, laughing at the other's citizens. It had started at a world meeting, with Francis and Arthur, as always. Then Alfred and Ivan got in on the act, along with Yao and Lovino. Of course the countries fought back, defending their people. Before long, everyone had been drawn into the arguing by another.

Soon Alfred and Ivan started up the whole Cold War again, acting like kindergarteners fighting over who had the better toy. Only they weren't fighting about cars and superheroes, but nuclear weapons. World meetings became more hellish than they were before, the two screaming insults across the table. Each time the two would see each other, it was always _"I have this, do you have something as good as it?"_

Then Alfred dropped a bomb in a remote part of Russia, and it was all downhill from there.

No one really knew why he did it. The Americans wouldn't tell anyone anything. It had killed very few people, so it wasn't meant to harm Russia, but rather scare them. All Alfred would tell them was that Ivan deserved it, and leave it at that. Rumors were going around that it was revenge for an American ambassador killed in Moscow, or that it was a mistake, an accidentally launched nuclear missile set for the barren edges of Russia. Neither of the two made sense, as one life wasn't anything to start nuclear warfare about, and you can't _"accidentally"_ launch a missile.

Either way, Ivan was reasonably upset about a bit of his country disappearing in a flash. And he was going to get his revenge by starting to take back countries that were communist or part of the Soviet Union. Suddenly Georgia and Kazakhstan disappeared from the map. All of Western Europe was terrified or being taken over by now, trying to prevent a relapse of the Soviet Union.

Poland and Lithuania got quite scared Russia was going to try and come after them again, so they formed a pact with Estonia and Latvia. America quickly sided with the group, sending their troops almost immediately after learning of them. Then, the Baltics and Feliks realized that while everyone was focused on preventing an all-out nuclear war between America and Russia they could climb back to the empire they used to be. Poland and Lithuania officially became the Empire of Poland-Lithuania, restoring the glory the two once had. The Empire was allied with most of Europe, save for the few countries that could actually see the power hungry group trying to act like they weren't taking over Europe. Of course most countries would side with them, as the Empire was working more behind the scenes than Russia. They claimed the POW camps weren't miniature concentration camps, or that they weren't killing thousands every day.

The world had changed so much it was hard for Ludwig to think of a time when everyone had at least tolerated each other. He almost missed the hectic world meetings, even if they usually didn't resolve anything. He missed having Feliciano and Kiku around, or being able to talk to another nation without the threat of being shot.

Just a few weeks ago, he and Feliciano agreed to meet up in Munich, just to talk again. The whole car ride there he was ecstatic, bearing a rare smile. He was even allowed to talk to him without the guard by his side, but having several snipers and guards watching from a safe distance. When he arrived at the agreed rendezvous point, instead of finding Feliciano happily waiting for him, Ludwig found himself staring down a gun barrel.

"I'm so sorry, Luddy," The Italian sobbed, hands wavering. "My boss wants me to kill you. He thinks you're too big of a threat to me, and you're only pretending to be my friend because you want to take advantage of Italy."

Ludwig immediately panicked. Why was he doing this, if they were both against the Empire of Poland-Lithuania? He searched his friend for any sign that he was joking, but there was only sadness in his amber eyes. The guards and snipers had been ordered to shoot Feliciano only if Ludwig gave him the signal. If they shot on their own accord, Ludwig had promised to kill each one of them with his bare hands. And he wasn't about to watch Feliciano get shot up, so he tried to talk some sense into his friend. Feliciano told him he would never shoot, begging Ludwig to kill him instead. In the end neither of the two could hurt each other, so they ended their meeting with a hug and a vague promise that they would see each other again in happier times. Ludwig climbed back into the armored car with his heart in a thousand pieces and the warmth of Feliciano's hug fading away.

Now what had happened to Feliciano? He had to of been punished, letting Ludwig get away like that. But was he fighting or safe with his brother? Or even worse than any of those horrors, imprisoned in a camp? Surely he wasn't rotting in Bolesność, was he? He couldn't be. Ludwig suddenly got the horrid image of Feliciano with hollow eyes and ribs jutting out.

Ludwig shook his head, trying to clear that from his mind. Feliciano had to be safe. There was no other option. He shivered a bit at the thought of this, surprised at how cold it had become. Winter couldn't be that close, could it? Pulling his coat a bit closer, he strode back into the tent after giving his guard a quiet salute. Taking off his boots, he crawled back into the warmth of his bed, too tired to even bother to remove his coat.

He hadn't been in the fluffy blankets for more than a minute when the air raid sirens began wailing.

"Mr. Germany!" One of the commanders shouted, throwing open the tent flap. "Poland is here! Prepare your troops immediately!"

 _Why, of all the times to attack, he chooses now?_ Ludwig thought, slowly getting out of bed. _Couldn't he wait 'til morning? What sort of dummkopf attacks at night?_

 _Oh, wait. I do._

"Yes, sir!" Ludwig stood up, saluting him. The commanding officer looked over Ludwig with suspicious eyes, wondering why the German was wearing a coat in bed, then turned and left without a word. Ludwig grabbed his gun and put on his stern face, pulling on his boots that were just taken off a minute ago. With only a couple of nudges to wake up the still sleeping Gilbert, Ludwig went off to assemble his battalion.

"Attention, 413th Battalion!" He barked. Most of the soldiers were already awake, moving about the tents. They instantly fell into place, saluting Ludwig.

"Poland is attacking as we speak! I want you to come in from the left, cutting off the rear formations. Have I made myself clear?!" He said, looking over each man before him. Some of them were quite young, still oblivious to the horrors of war. It made him worried just how well they could hold off an attack. Much of the new kids that had arrived in the past weeks looked much younger than eighteen, like teenagers trying to aim a HK417 and carry a pack almost as heavy as some of themselves.

The soldiers saluted once again. "Yes, sir!"

They began rushing about, grabbing weapons and helmets. Ludwig made sure his own rifle was strapped securely to him, praying for the second time that night for the strength to fight Feliks.

As for the 413th Battalion, they were ready to go.

While Ludwig led his troops towards the echoing gunfire, he couldn't help but panic. It always happened to him right before any sort of battle, a brief wave of fright that completely overtook him. Usually he could get over it in a few seconds, but now the fear had formed a knot in his stomach. He tried to keep a straight face, but he knew by the end of this fight most of them would be dead or captured. Maybe, by some slim miracle, they could actually defeat Poland.

Then he remembered just how many troops were still fighting in Leipzig. If everyone was here, they could easily tackle Poland. But as of right now, Poland outnumbered the soldiers in Berlin four to one.

Gilbert came up to Ludwig, his battalion following close behind. "The commander says we should stick together," He said with an obviously faked smile. "Thinks we'll fight better together, you know, being brothers and all."

Ludwig glanced at Gilbert. He could see the fear in his brother's ruby eyes, as he knew too this was likely going to end in defeat. There was a tiny chance Poland was weaker than they thought, and it was growing smaller each minute as they neared the gunfire.

"Fine," Ludwig choked, trying not to imagine himself in Bolesność.

* * *

 **A/N: This is possibly the longest chapter in the whole story. It was a complete pain in the neck to write, but here it is!**

 **Oh boy, things are going to get very interesting soon. I have so many new plans for this story, it barely resembles the prototype.**

 **A tiny side note:**

 **HK417- A German military rifle mostly used by the front line troops. Looks pretty cool, and even cooler if you imagine Ludwig and Gilbert wielding them.**


	4. When Friends Become Prisoners

A group of tired nations sat in the back of a truck, several maps laid out on the floor before them. A few old kerosene lanterns gave them just enough light to see the large map of Berlin as Feliks drew battle plans with a Sharpie. Toris sat next to him, a fleece blanket draped over his shoulders like a cloak. Raivis was barely able to stay awake as he tried to follow along with Feliks' erratic ideas, and Eduard was currently nursing his second cup of coffee.

"So, a full-scale capture should take about, like, five or so hours. We have all of our troops, about two-fifths of yours, and a lot of France's," Feliks yawned, looking to Eduard's laptop next to him. "But why did we have to do it this early?"

"Because, it'll completely catch the Germans off guard," Alfred explained. His voice didn't quite sync up with his picture on the screen, but he was using the best connection they could find for a video chat halfway across the world. "And think about it this way, it's only like, eight PM here in America."

"You know that we're in Berlin, right?" Eduard snapped.

Alfred rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair as he did so. "C'mon, nerd, you need to lighten up. It's the day of the invasion!"

"Oh, yes how could I have forgotten? What a way to start the morning."

Raivis fell against Eduard's shoulder, completely asleep. The Estonian hissed at him like a cat, trying to push the small boy off of him. Raivis groaned in reply, clutching Eduard's coat in his fists.

"Lemme sleep…" He muttered, curling up around Eduard.

"Hey, Raivis," Toris said gently, reaching over and running a hand through the boy's hair. "Why don't you go check on the prisoner?"

"M'kay." Raivis slowly got to his feet, scrubbing a hand over his eyes. He jumped out of the truck, disappearing into the darkness.

Once Toris was sure the Latvian was out of earshot, he got up and shut the truck's doors. Returning to his spot next to Feliks, he removed two letters from inside his coat.

"Ukraine and Belarus sent us these," He said, handing them to Feliks. "Evidentially, Belarus wishes I would drop off the face of the Earth and burn in hell for eternity, and Ukraine wants her people to know just how terrible and devilish we are."

"That's harsh," Alfred laughed. "Have you gotten any new transmissions since the last one?"

"Nope. I think Natalia must be pretty pissed," Toris gave him a halfhearted smile, watching Feliks tear up the letters and shove them in a lantern. The flames ate up the tiny bits, licking at Feliks' fingers. "Have you gotten anything from the two?"

"We traced the signal from that transmission, and it seems like they're somewhere in the Alps. We got sort of lost after that, but I have a general idea as to where they are. Do you think we should start looking?"

"How long do you think we could go before Ukraine and Belarus learn they're missing their representatives?" Eduard asked. "I mean, they'll definitely freak if they learn that they're missing."

"If you keep up the whole ' _they're on the battlefield with us'_ thing, I think you have a good six or seven months before they start to get suspicious."

Suddenly a loud scream split the quiet of the truck, curses being shouted and threats being made at Raivis. Raivis yelled apologies back, trying to get their prisoner to calm down, but that wasn't working as well as he intended. There was a loud crash, and then a slam of a door. Raivis came running back to the truck, throwing open the door. He was completely pale, hands shaking as he climbed inside.

"H-h-h-he's awake," Raivis' voice was barely above a whisper as he spoke. Toris motioned for the boy to come to him, wrapping a protective arm around him.

"It's okay," He said, trying his best at calming the Latvian. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"N-no, but he w-w-was going to." Raivis buried himself into Toris' chest. "He looked like I-I-Ivan when he got a-a-a-angry with me."

"Shh, it's okay. He can't hurt you. You're safe here with us." Toris wrapped his blanket around Raivis, looking up at Eduard. "Would you go put him back to sleep?"

"Fine," Eduard huffed, grabbing a bottle and a rag from his backpack. "But if that bastard tries anything, I'm letting the guards take care of him."

Eduard left the truck, the sound of his boots clicking like gunshots in the quiet forest. The prisoner was still screaming like a madman, shouting what Toris could only assume were threats in his native language, and a few in English.

"Who's your prisoner?" Alfred asked nonchalantly. The remaining countries were startled by his voice, having momentarily forgotten that he was still here.

"Like, some stupid spy." Feliks answered, picking up Eduard's laptop. "Anyway, we have to start the invasion like, now. See you later!"

"Wait, but who is the spy? That isn – "

"Bye!" Feliks hung up, slamming the laptop closed.

"Why couldn't we tell him it was Antonio?" Raivis said, much more calmed down by now.

Feliks folded up the maps, putting them back in Eduard's backpack. "Because, if he knew we were turning on our allies, he'd like, start fighting us instead of fighting with us."

Antonio screamed again, making several loud crashes from the nearby truck he was being held in. There was a faint crack, and then a groan of pain from Antonio. Soon he was quiet again, and Eduard returned with spatters of red on his boot.

"He wouldn't stay still," Eduard said simply, wiping the blood from his boot. "Either way, he's out again."

"It's fine, as long as he's asleep. You ready to go?" Toris looked down at Raivis, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Raivis shook his head, pulling the blanket around him. "Can I just stay here and sleep?"

"Sure. You can come whenever you feel like it. It's perfectly fine if you want to sit this one out too." Toris gave the boy a final ruffle of his hair, then grabbed his bag and followed Feliks and Eduard out on the march to the battlefield.

* * *

Ludwig lay flat in the mud, clutching his rifle. The attack had been going on for several hours now, the sun finally starting to peek over the horizon. The early morning light illuminated the battlefield, and Ludwig only wanted the sun to go back down so he wouldn't have to see how many Germans were dead. As for Ludwig himself, he was tired, hungry, in pain from lying on a rock for several hours unable to shift for fear of his head being shot off, and ready to end this battle, be it in defeat or victory.

All together, the Germans were close to falling apart.

Not only did Feliks fight with surprising force, but Toris and Eduard were able to hold their ground. Ludwig had completely underestimated their strengths. He remembered the two as weak, trembling Baltic nations, not these powerful killers that had suddenly shown up. Even Raivis had changed, taking anyone he could grab prisoner, writing down names in a torn up journal. It was almost frightening to see how many captives he was taking; for such a small boy he could point a gun at their heads and seem rather intimidating. Ludwig forgot just how old Raivis actually was, much older than the German himself.

As things stood, for every enemy soldier killed, four more Germans were shot or captured. Ludwig could only watch in dread as his men died on the field, their bodies being searched by Raivis and numerous other guards. He had several guards with him as he moved about, forming a protective circle around the boy. He could move about as he pleased, taking advantage of the land and destructive forces.

Feliks had taken over the battlefield and shaped it to his liking. After using several grenades, mortar fire, and mines, they had built themselves a solid line of defense composed of partially destroyed buildings, fallen trees, and barbed wires. It made Ludwig cringe to see his once beautiful city reduced to rubble and bloodied grass, the bodies of soldiers strewn about like playthings.

Most of the dead were dressed in German uniforms, the army green stained red. Ludwig tried to keep his hopes up by telling himself that he could only see a tiny part of the attack on Berlin. Maybe in the other areas the Germans were winning, pushing back Feliks' invasion.

Still, he knew that with a few well-placed attacks, Feliks could gain a large city in his territory, giving him the upper hand on Germany.

For a split second, Ludwig wondered if this was revenge for everything his country did to Poland in WWII. Feliks still had a grudge against him, even if he seemed to tolerate Ludwig's presence. It could've been karma for the things he'd done, in the form of this war. The Empire of Poland-Lithuania could be determined to make Germany pay.

He quickly dismissed the thoughts, returning his focus to the battlefield in front of him. Aiming his rifle at an oncoming soldier, he took a deep breath, waited a second, and then pulled the trigger. Ludwig didn't even feel remorseful as he watched the man drop. He had stopped feeling guilty for killing people long ago, as it only made things more painful in the end. Wars were already hurt him deeply, and he didn't need to feel regret for ending someone's life. It would just be another problem to work over.

Suddenly there was a new soldier in his sights, dressed in the German uniform. It took Ludwig a minute to realize it was Gilbert sprinting towards him, as his white hair was tinted brown from all the dirt and dust. His guards were following close behind, trying to stop the frantic Prussian.

"Get back here!" Ludwig barked. "You're going to get yourself killed!"

"What do you think I'm doing?!" Gilbert snapped, still sprinting as fast as he could. "I found Eduard! If we take him hostage, at least Toris and Raivis might slow down enough to push them back!" Gilbert stopped behind a large building, a stupid, huge grin on his face.

"Come here!" Gilbert waved to Ludwig. "You'll get killed there!"

"Why?" Ludwig looked puzzled, considering Gilbert was the one out in the open.

"Just get over here!"

Ludwig snuck over to Gilbert, still slightly bewildered as to why Gilbert was yelling so much. He could see the battle going on, and his guards were by his side, so he didn't think he was in danger.

"First off, Eduard can see you. Second, if we capture Eduard, that'll send all of their communications out the window. He's in that warehouse, the one that has the red doors." Gilbert said excitedly, pointing to said warehouse.

Ludwig looked at his older brother, then at his guards. "You, go scout first." He pointed to one of his guards, who gave him a quick salute. You're old, you probably can't see that well," Ludwig said to Gilbert, brushing the dust off of his brother's hair to make him a bit more recognizable.

Gilbert frowned at Ludwig, obviously not amused with the jibe at his age. "I'm not that old. And don't fuss over me." He swatted his hand away, much to Ludwig's annoyance.

The two peeked out from behind the wall, watching the guard grab several of the troops from the front lines, giving Ludwig a thumbs-up and motioning to the mostly intact building. Ludwig nodded, running a finger across his throat and shaking his head no, telling him to keep Eduard alive. The guard saluted, leading his tiny group towards the warehouse.

With a swift kick, they busted down the door and ran inside. Ludwig couldn't see what was going on inside, but he could occasionally see the two of them fighting in the window. Eduard was shouting threats in Estonian and broken German, and from what Ludwig could understand it was something about killing the soldiers' family one by one. They were not the most effective threats, as the soldiers weren't responding.

Seconds later, they proudly dragged Eduard out. The Estonian had a large gash on the side of his head, blood pouring down his face. Gilbert began cheering, and ran up to the two. Eduard glared at Gilbert while he congratulated them on the successful capture. Ludwig nervously looked around, hoping no one would try and kill the three of them. They did have the cover of a building plus all the guards, so it wasn't like they were sitting ducks, but it still made him nervous.

Suddenly, Eduard looked directly at Ludwig, a tiny smile on his face. He nodded his head ever so slightly, and Ludwig felt the familiar sting of a bullet graze his left arm.

"Damn it, I missed."

"Please, let me try. You're shaking."

"I am not!"

"Look at your hands, and tell me you are not shaking."

"I'm just excited!"

Ludwig couldn't recognize the voices, but the first was painfully obvious as the perfectly manicured hand grabbed Ludwig's uniform.

"Like, nice try. You think you, like, found us first?" Feliks giggled. Even during a war, his nails were painted a sparkly pink, sticking out from his fingerless gloves. One sparkly pink finger was curled over the trigger of his handgun, ready to shoot again.

Automatically all of the guards were sighted on Toris and Feliks, about fourteen high powered rifles aimed at the two with only a pistol to share between them.

"Whoa," Feliks handed the pistol to Toris, holding up his now free hand. "We're all friends here."

Toris nodded in agreement, looking down at Ludwig with disgust. He had the revolver pointed at Ludwig's head, daring him to try and move. Ludwig and Gilbert's guards were doing the same, glaring into Toris' sea green eyes.

"Get away from my brother!" Gilbert yelled from somewhere behind Ludwig, but he didn't want to turn his head to look.

Feliks dropped Ludwig's collar, took the pistol back, and aimed at Gilbert.

"If you come any closer, I will shoot." Feliks waved his gun at Gilbert menacingly, although it didn't quite have the same effect with the nail polish. "And don't think I won't. It'll take about two billion bullets to get me down, but only two for Mr. Awesome over there."

Gilbert was silent, stepping up to Ludwig's side. Toris raised an eyebrow, questioning Gilbert silently. Two guards had a hand on the both of the Prussian's wrists, holding him back behind the cover of HK417's.

Gilbert stood and watched the enemy for what seemed like an hour. No one said a word, just looking from one person to the next.

Finally, Gilbert made a move. Tearing the guards' hands off of his, he lunged for the gun in Feliks hands, attempting to knock it away from him. Feliks held tight to his pistol, even after Gilbert had kicked him multiple times and tried biting Feliks' hands. The guards kept a steady aim at Feliks' head, waiting for the right opportunity to strike. Toris just stood and watched, quite thrilled with the scene unfolding before him.

"Ew!" Feliks screeched, pushing Gilbert away. "Like, weren't you ever told to not bite people?!"

"I'll do whatever I want, you sick bastard!"

Feliks unexpectedly found himself pinned under an angry Prussian, who was punching him and screaming insults. The two rolled around in the dirt, trying to strangle each other and screaming curses.

"Like, Oh, my God! When was the last time you took a bath?" Feliks scoffed, grabbing Gilbert's throat.

Ludwig sat for a second, astounded. How could they have missed Feliks? He attracted attention better than anyone he knew. Even without the sparkly fingernail polish.

Then Ludwig snapped back to reality, realizing Gilbert was being strangled by the enemy. Ludwig looked up at Toris, who was still watching the two fighting. Before Toris could react, Ludwig had grabbed his legs and pulled him to the ground.

Toris wasn't as easy as Feliks was. The Lithuanian already had his arms wrapped around Ludwig's neck, trying to choke him. The pistol the two shared lay in the dirt just barely out of his reach. Ludwig grabbed for it, trying to move closer. Toris pulled him back, pressing even tighter on his throat. Ludwig's vision was beginning to go, making it harder to crawl towards the revolver. Everything was swirling into a blur of colors, the revolver barely recognizable in the dirt. Why weren't the guards shooting yet? Unless they were busy with something more life threatening, they should've riddled Toris with bullets by now.

Then, by some miracle, he grabbed the revolver, cocked it, and put a new hole in Toris' shoulder.

He instantly let go of Ludwig, crying out in pain. Ludwig hastily got to his feet, pointing the gun at Toris. Toris didn't even notice, as he was clutching his shoulder and trying to stop the bleeding.

Ludwig turned back to look at Gilbert, who had Feliks pinned to the ground. He looked up at Ludwig triumphantly, still wearing a stupid grin.

"Actually," Gilbert panted, wiping at a trickle of blood running down his cheek. "My last bath was three days ago. Pretty good by my book."

Ludwig saw Gilbert's eyes widen, and he opened his mouth to say something. As Gilbert tried to get up, Ludwig heard a dull crack and his vision blurred again. There was a long string of gunfire as he dropped to the ground, trying to shake the blackness from his vision.

"Three days?" He heard Toris say smugly, "That's very long. We'll have to get you cleaned up at camp."

Then he slipped into the darkness.

* * *

 **A/N: Hello! I can't believe it's almost Halloween! Well, we still have twenty-one days, but that's pretty close. I can't wait to break out my Russia cosplay!  
**

 **Anyway, I created a motto for this story. It really fits it, according to a few reviews.**

 **"Welcome to Numbers from Poland, numerically inaccurate since June 2015!"**

 **See you next chapter!**


	5. Riding Crops and Rifles

_Ludwig hated setting the table. And yet he somehow got stuck doing it again, thanks to Roderich. He seemed to know how to make Ludwig mad, and enjoyed watching the boy suffer. So naturally when he assigned the chores for the day he gave Ludwig the job of setting the long table they only used on special occasions. Roderich was hosting a party tonight, and Ludwig was going to have to be the free workforce._

 _So the boy had to wrestle a white table cloth onto it, then try and keep each side perfectly even so Roderich wouldn't punish him. Next was the ever irritating task of setting the plates and silverware in the right spots. He could never remember what forks went where, how many plates you were supposed to set out, or how to fold the napkins neatly. By the time he had finished with all of this he wanted to strangle himself with one of the uncooperative napkins._

 _As he was leaving the young girl came in, toting her push broom. She was humming a song to herself, and didn't notice Ludwig until she ran into him._

" _Oh, excuse me, I didn't see you! I'm so sorry!" She apologized, looking up at Ludwig._

" _It's fine," Ludwig said, brushing past her. He quickly left the room, trying to hide the rose red blush that covered his face. He hated how every time he saw that girl his face became bright red and he started to stammer._

" _Did you run into her again?" Roderich laughed when Ludwig reported back to the kitchen. Ludwig bit his lip, trying not to snap back. The last time he'd said something to Roderich when he made fun of him Roderich went and got his riding crop. And Ludwig had no interest in getting smacked before the guests arrived._

 _Roderich wasn't satisfied with just that, so he kept going. "Honestly, you two should just run off together in the middle of the night and get married. I wouldn't mind."_

" _I don't like her," Ludwig mumbled, crossing his arms._

" _What was that?" Roderich gave him a smug grin. "I couldn't hear you?"_

" _I said I don't like her."_

" _You have to speak louder, boy." He was pushing Ludwig's patience now, trying to make the boy explode._

" _I said I don't like her, you dumb pig! God, could you listen once in a while? Maybe all that music is making you deaf!" Ludwig immediately froze, the fury he'd felt a second ago fading away. He stood in silence now, watching Roderich's expression go from shock to anger._

 _He took a step away from Ludwig, violet eyes blazing. He reached for the wooden spoon on the counter, raising it up slowly. "I just asked you a simple question. Do you_ ever _think it's necessary to respond that way?"_

 _Ludwig didn't answer, but rather bolted from the kitchen. He cursed himself for allowing Roderich to get to him like that as he ran. But now his concern was finding a good hiding spot. Roderich knew the giant house all too well for him to hide inside, so the next best option was outside. Once he was in the forest surrounding the house he'd be safe, as Roderich rarely ventured outside as much as Ludwig did._

 _The boy ran out the back door, not even looking back as he did so. He had no clue if Roderich was chasing him, but he kept running until he reached the trees. Once under the cover of the forest he could slow down a bit, snaking through the trees and ducking behind bushes._

 _That night was spent in the forest, watching the guests arrive at the large house and listening to the piano music that drifted from the windows. And of course, the food smelled delicious. He hadn't eaten since breakfast that day, so it only made the food smell better._

 _When the last guest had finally left late in the night, Ludwig was almost asleep. But he was instantly awake when he saw Gilbert put out a plate of leftovers on the back step, sending a mischievous grin to the forest. Ludwig had a newfound appreciation for his older brother, waiting until he completely disappeared before sneaking up to the back step._

 _Ludwig was so engrossed in eating that he hadn't noticed the door swing open. When he did look up, there was Roderich._

 _And in his hand was the riding crop._

* * *

"E-excuse me? Mr. Germany, sir? Could you please get up?"

"Come on, you have to be more assertive! He'll never move if you treat him like that!"

"M-M-Mr. Germany?"

"Oh, for God's sake, just step on him!"

Ludwig felt a sharp pain in his chest, immediately pulling him out of the dream. Raivis and Eduard were standing over him, the Latvian pressing his boot down on Ludwig's chest. Eduard had a bandage wrapped around his head from the fight with the soldier, but other than that the two looked unscathed from the battle.

"You're awake now," Raivis smiled, looking to Eduard for approval. "Now w-we can start the trip, right?"

Eduard nodded, rolling his eyes. He was obviously irritated with Raivis, shoving away the boy who was looking up to him. He pulled out a walkie-talkie, flicking it on. "Nordic to Polski." He said, eyeing Ludwig suspiciously as if the German would get up and tackle him if he looked away.

"For like, the last time, your code name is Nerd. Not Nordic or whatever," Feliks' voice crackled over the speaker, Eduard rolling his eyes yet again.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Eduard groaned like a teenage girl. "Anyway, the Potato is awake. We can start cleaning up."

"Why did you get to make up Ludwig's code name? I'm the leader here, not you, Glasses Dork! Know your place!" Feliks huffed impatiently, stopping to yell at someone and then ordering Toris to beat whoever it was. "Anyway, like, roger. Polski-Doodle out!"

Eduard muttered something to himself, shoving the walkie-talkie back in a leather messenger bag which looked to be already jammed full of stuff. "I'd get a move on if I were you. Your brother's already gone, and you two want to be placed in the same camp, right? Then again, Norway does need a friend. He's pretty lonely in Poznan." He looked down at Ludwig with mock pity, green eyes full of condescension. If Ludwig had the strength, he would've smashed his stupid face into oblivion, but right now his entire body felt like lead.

Ludwig attempted to stand up, only to discover his legs refused to hold his weight. He fell to the ground, his vision becoming a blur. His head felt like it could split open with just the tiniest movement, a sharp pain making his entire skull pound. The ground was coming in and out of focus, and he felt like he was spinning. He figured he had a concussion and shouldn't try to walk quite yet, but Eduard was poking him with a rifle now and demanding him to stand so there really wasn't another option.

Eduard started laughing as Ludwig kept trying to stand up, each time unsuccessful. He'd just jab Ludwig with his rifle again, repeating the word "stand" over and over. Ludwig was becoming quite sick of that word, and very angry with himself for not being able to throttle the bastard standing over him with the damned rifle. Raivis stood and watched nervously, wondering if he should follow Eduard's lead or help. He was still trembling and trying to tell Eduard to stop, but the Estonian wasn't listening, laughing louder and louder.

"Here, Mr. Germany. Let me help you," Raivis stepped in front of Eduard and held out his hand, helping Ludwig up. He let Ludwig lean on him, wrapping his arm around the much larger man's waist to steady him. For a kid as small as he was, he was quite strong, able to hold up a lot of Ludwig's weight.

"You just don't get being a slave driver, do you?" Eduard sighed now that his fun was over, looking at the two of them. Raivis shrugged, looking at Ludwig and then back at Eduard. For a second Ludwig panicked that Raivis would drop him and he'd have to go back to being poked with the rifle.

"I'm going up with Toris. You can stay and help him if you want. I won't tell on you." Eduard pushed up his glasses and marched off, muttering a few curses in Estonian.

For the first time, albeit a bit fuzzy around the edges, Ludwig got a good view of the march. Thousands of soldiers were walking down a worn path, some badly injured. Large trucks drove on both sides of the path, presumably full of more prisoners. If a person thought they could move no further and collapsed, a soldier came and beat them. Most of the time they just gave up and lay to die in the dirt, bound to be forgotten. Were they seriously going to walk all the way to Poland? Surely they couldn't be expected to march all the way there, as people would try to escape.

"Don't they use trains for this?" Ludwig's voice was hoarse, but it didn't stop the rising fear in his throat. He was scared he might have a flashback, trying his best to keep a grip on reality, which was currently out of focus and covered in blood and pain, so maybe the flashback would be the better choice. He almost let himself slip back into the memory or unconsciousness, only giving slight concern to the lightheadedness and darkness beginning to cloud over his eyes. But Raivis pulled him back to the present world, tightening his grip on Ludwig's shirt.

"Mr. Germany? Are you alright?" Raivis shook him gently as he spoke. "Do you need to sit down or something?"

"No, I'm good," Ludwig answered, wiping a hand over his eyes to try and erase the cloudiness. "So, why aren't you using trains again?"

"Mr. Poland took down almost all the railways, except for the ones from us to him. And no, nobody tries to escape because we keep walking all night. We were going to put you in a truck with Anto – our prisoner, but he's not really friendly. And there isn't many other trucks to use, so you and Gilbert have to walk," Raivis stated simply, looking up at Ludwig with concern in his blue eyes. He didn't appear to be in favor of any of this, trying to avoid eye contact with everyone who looked at the boy.

As they walked they passed a group of Italian soldiers talking quietly amongst themselves, and yet another in Dutch uniforms who pointed at Ludwig and Raivis. They were glaring at them and whispering things Ludwig somehow knew weren't polite. He knew only a few words Dutch, but it didn't take a genius to figure out what " _bastaard"_ meant.

"I thought you were only taking Germans," Ludwig nodded to the group of Italians, ignoring new taunts from the Dutch.

"Oh, no," Raivis answered. "We're taking prisoners from all over. We were going to return, but then Feliks wanted to take Berlin. But once we're in Poland, they'll all be separated."

That was all Ludwig wanted to hear. He feared if they talked for much longer, all the hidden memories he'd pushed away would come up. For the next couple of hours there was no attempt at talking between the two. Raivis seemed fine with the quiet, as he wasn't really the talkative one.

Finally, they caught up to Gilbert. His hair was even dirtier than before, appearing to be a light brown instead of his snow white. He was helping a limping Italian solider walk along, poking him and making jokes. For a split second Ludwig thought it was Feliciano, but his heart sank when he realized the color of his hair was much too dark for Veneziano.

Ludwig went up to Gilbert, putting a hand on his muddied uniform. Gilbert screamed, whipping around with his fist held up defensively. Then he recognized his brother, the fire in his red eyes disappearing.

"My God, Ludwig! Don't scare me like that!" Gilbert put his fist down, pulling Ludwig into a tight hug. "I thought you died!"

"I feel dead," Ludwig moaned, trying to escape Gilbert's arms. "You could loosen up a bit."

"Oh, what a surprise. Me and the potato bastard feel the same way. Dead." The soldier Gilbert was helping laughed, crossing his arms.

Ludwig would recognize that irritatingly sarcastic Italian anywhere.

"Look who I found!" Gilbert grinned, ruffling Lovino's dark brown locks.

"I told you, don't touch me," Lovino snapped, shoving his hand away and pouting like a child.

Gilbert rolled his eyes, turning back to Ludwig. "He hasn't changed at all. I'm surprised he's even letting me touch him. Anyway, is your head okay?"

"I'm fine. Did I black out or something?"

Gilbert shook his head. "Toris hit you with a rock. Sort of primitive, but I guess he was desperate. I'm sorry, I tried to warn you."

"What happened to our guards?"

Gilbert bit his lip. "They shot up the two of them almost instantly. I have no clue what took them so long. I guess they hit Toris' heart, because he stopped breathing or something. Feliks sort of freaked, screaming for a medic. It was weird to watch, Feliks dripping blood like a faucet and shaking Toris. They too had hidden guards, because before I knew it, all of our guards had dropped. Feliks was crying like a little girl when Eduard snuck up and grabbed me. I couldn't see what happened after that, because at that point a bunch of soldiers were leading me away. I don't really know who's alive, but I haven't seen our any guards yet."

"Oh," was all Ludwig could manage to say. His guards were most likely dead. He felt horrible, as he didn't even know their names. He hadn't bothered to get much more acquainted with any of them other than telling them he was Germany. "Are you sure every one of them fell? I mean, there had to of been at least one that survived."

"I don't think so." Gilbert shook his head. "They were all down."

"Who cares?" Lovino yawned. "I got shot in the leg and I didn't have any of this emotional bullshit."

Ludwig glanced down at Lovino's legs, wondering if the Italian was just exaggerating. Sure enough, his right thigh was wrapped in dirty bandages, a brownish red circle the size of his fist decorating them. Lovino caught Ludwig staring, and slapped a hand over his wound. "Didn't they ever teach you not to stare?! You Germans are so rude!"

Raivis eased Ludwig's arm off of him, making sure he could stand on his own before letting go. "I think you can make it on your own now, yes?"

"He's with me!" Gilbert announced proudly, pulling Ludwig's arm around his neck. "Of course he'll be fine!"

Raivis nodded. "Okay then. I'm really sorry about before. I-I-I didn't want to hurt you, but I didn't want Eduard to kill me either."

Gilbert shot Raivis a mischievous grin. "That's okay kid. Me and Ludwig will get you back sometime."

Raivis' eyes widened in horror and he held his hands up. "P-Please don't hurt me! It's Toris and Feliks y-y-you want!"

Lovino groaned, looking at Raivis how one would look at a naïve child. "Listen, I know this douchebag wouldn't hurt you. He's too soft."

Gilbert gave Lovino a playful shove. "You're the real softy here! Have you ever seen this guy when Spain's around?"

"No, I haven't." Raivis seemed to calm down a bit, but he was still shaking. "If you need anything, come find me, okay? I'll help you. But I really have to get going now." He turned away from them, running towards where Feliks was walking along.

"I'll see you at camp!"

* * *

 **A/N: What? Two chapters in two days?  
**

 **I just posted this one because I got finished with it much earlier than expected. I hope you all enjoy it!**

 **And for the future record, most chapters won't be posted this quickly. I have a lot of work to do, and I really shouldn't of procrastinated. Just a little tip, don't put aside homework to write fanfiction. Stay in school kids, because fanfiction won't get you very far in life.**

 **See you next chapter!**


	6. Welcome to Pain

"You're worried about Feliciano, aren't you?" Lovino cocked an eyebrow, glancing at Ludwig. It was their fourth day of walking, and only their first break for the day. The group of three was sharing a can of beef Raivis had snuck them, which was much better than the biscuits Feliks provided. Thankfully, the subject of Italy hadn't come up yet, most of their conversations had been short and simple. Most of them were too tired to even think about talking after walking four days and nights. Still, Ludwig knew it was bound to come up sometime, but he wasn't prepared for it today.

"A little," Ludwig lied, feeling the red crawl up his neck.

"A little?" Gilbert chuckled. "It was more like every two seconds! ' _Italy! Italy! I wonder if Feliciano's hurt? Is he alive?'_ " He mocked in a high voice. _"The love of my life could be dead right now!"_

Lovino burst out laughing, grinning from ear to ear. "I always knew you had a thing for my brother, but not to that level!" Ludwig was completely blushing now, beads of sweat dripping down his face. He silently cursed at Gilbert, wishing he knew when to shut up.

"I was worried about my friend. Is there a problem with that?" Ludwig stammered, glaring at Gilbert. Gilbert just shrugged and made a heart with his hands.

Lovino looked at Ludwig, his rare smile gone. "I don't want you to ever be near my brother again, got it?"

"I am not in love with your brother, no matter what Gilbert says."

Lovino pursed his lips. "I don't care. You'll probably try some sneaky German spy move to get Feli to kiss you."

"For the last time, I am not in love with Feliciano!" Ludwig snapped, staring him down.

Lovino stared back with equal intensity, trying to appear as strong and terrifying as Ludwig naturally was. "Then why are you so worried about him?"

"Because I can be!"

"Because isn't an answer!" Lovino taunted, smirking.

"Because is a good enough answer for you!" Ludwig growled, turning away from him.

Lovino stuck his nose up in the air, crossing his arms. "Don't think I believe you. I've seen how you look at Feliciano."

"Well, that settles that," Gilbert said, looking at the two of them acting like children. "And I suppose Lovino is worried about Antonio."

"Please," Lovino waved him off. "As if I care what happens to that idiot."

"Are you sure?" Gilbert raised an eyebrow suggestively.

"Positive," Lovino was now beginning to get embarrassed, but he was trying his best to remain calm and not lose his temper.

"Oh, are you really positive?" Gilbert said, taking a bite of canned beef. "Then I guess you don't want any of that nice Spanish ass, do you? I'll just have to keep it all for myself."

"Don't you dare touch Spain's ass, you jerk bastard!" Lovino shouted, tackling Gilbert.

"Admit it, Antonio has a nice butt!" Gilbert laughed, trying to push Lovino off of him. "And you love it!"

"I do not like Antonio!"

"You're lying! Did you know it's a sin to lie to people, Lovino?"

"As big of a sin as you accusing me of liking Antonio's ass?"

Ludwig held his head, waiting for the two to stop. But they didn't stop for another hour, only shutting up when Toris came over and ordered them to start walking before he tore their throats out.

* * *

The captives had been walking for a little over a week. Lovino had been walking for six weeks, from a town near the Italian border. Lovino had already informed them numerous Poland hadn't gone down to Italy, but they had gotten the captives from the land France was trying to overtake. He refused to acknowledge the fact that Italy was being slowly taken over, telling them that Italy just was letting the enemy believe they were winning. Ludwig was sick of Lovino, and even sicker of walking, his feet aching more and more with each step.

Raivis suffered with them, walking alongside the group and listening to the constant arguments of  
Gilbert and Lovino. The Latvian clearly preferred their company over Toris or Eduard, even though he didn't say much. But he did share food and bandages for Lovino's leg, and kept everyone up on the war.

"Mr. England is lucky," Raivis said suddenly one day during an argument between Lovino and Gilbert over who was more irritating, Arthur or Francis. Everyone turned to the young boy, surprised to hear him speaking.

"Most of us aren't even bothering to attack him. The only ones who have turned against him so far are Mr. France, Mr. America, and Mr. Canada."

Gilbert raised an eyebrow. "His own family? I know they don't get along the best, but really?"

"Yes. It's terrible what the war has done to us. Take Toris and Eduard." He pointed to the other Baltics, who had the luxury of riding horses, which were courtesy of Feliks. "They used to be so gentle. And then we captured Mr. Russia, and they sort of snapped. Now Feliks is trying to rebuild the Commonwealth, and Toris keeps getting stronger and more terrifying."

"You took down that scary bastard?" Lovino exclaimed, looking slightly stunned.

"It was mostly Feliks and Toris, but I guess we did. The original plan was to go after Ms. Belarus and Ms. Ukraine, but Mr. Russia got in the way. The two of them went into hiding while we took Mr. Russia captive. Our only clue to their whereabouts was a transmission for Toris from Ms. Belarus. She said she never wants to see him again for all the terrible things he's done. They've been sending us letters through their soldiers, most of them death threats for Toris Ms. Belarus has sent."

Ludwig had momentarily forgotten Natalia and Toris used to be dating. And after capturing Ivan, Natalia surely wouldn't want to even be near Toris. Maybe that's why Toris was acting so different, almost heartless. It was completely out of character for him, the Lithuanian usually was the gentlest person Ludwig could think of.

"And how long ago was that?" Gilbert asked.

"About two months. Mr. America tracked the call down to somewhere in Switzerland, but it was lost by then."

"Speaking of months," Lovino growled, crossing his arms. "How long do you plan to keep us walking?"

"The camp is very close," Raivis replied, pulling out a small map. "We're about here," He pointed to a tiny dot on the paper. "And this is the camp, in Szczecin." He pointed to a larger dot, which had been circled in red ink. "We'll have to walk around the city, since Feliks doesn't want the people to see all of you."

"And how many more kilometers is it to that shit hole?" Lovino whined, tapping the circled dot.

"About seven. We're very close."

They reached the camp by nightfall. Like Feliks, it wasn't hard to miss. Giant floodlights illuminating the grounds, guard towers, fences at least six meters high, barbed wire everywhere, and the unmistakable reek of death. He had made an almost perfect recreation of several concentration camps, making several unwanted memories come back to Ludwig.

The final touch was a large wrought iron gate, bearing the name Bolesność and the words " _Ani kura za darmo nie gdacze."_ Ludwig had lost any knowledge of Polish he had, leaving him only to wonder what that could mean.

"Welcome home, boys!" Eduard grinned, waving a revolver. The bandage was now gone from his head, only a thin red line remaining as a reminder of the fight. He glared at Gilbert as they walked by, pointing the pistol at him. When Gilbert was sure Eduard wasn't looking he flipped him off, yelling at the Estonian about being a little bitch. Ludwig slapped his brother's hand, ignoring Lovino's laughter and encouragement. The thing Ludwig needed the least right now was a bullet hole in his brother's head.

All of the new prisoners were shoved inside, the gates promptly slammed shut after Toris and Eduard stepped in. They were whispering to each other, pointing at people and making notes in a little book much like the one Raivis was carrying.

The older prisoners gathered around them while keeping their distance. They watched them like they were exotic creatures in a zoo, a few staring at the newcomers with hungry eyes. They hadn't yet experienced the horrors of the camp; most of the new prisoners were still in good health.

"Like, hello people!" Feliks beamed, stepping onto a raised platform. "This is, like, the main camp, Bolesność. If you don't do well enough here we'll send you to Poznan or kill you. It all depends on how you want to do things. Keep that in mind, will you?"

Toris walked up next to Feliks. He looked a bit more beat up than before, with an angry red circle on his neck, presumably from a bullet. "We'll separate you out by nationality. I am in charge of the Germans and the Swiss, Eduard is taking the Romani and the Czechs, and Raivis has the Spaniards and Italians. Follow your commander to your assigned areas. And seriously, don't try anything. We're not afraid to shoot."

"Do you think Basch is here?" Gilbert whispered to Ludwig, the crowd of prisoners moving around them.

"Maybe. But don't get your hopes up," Ludwig whispered back, knowing Basch would never go down without a fight. He would rather kill himself than be taken prisoner.

"Like I would want to see Basch again. Who do you think I am?" Gilbert clicked his tongue, acting like he didn't care about his other sibling.

Lovino started limping towards Raivis, waving a goodbye to the German and Prussian. "I'll see you potato bastards later. Tell me if you see Antonio anywhere." And with that Lovino disappeared into the crowd.

They began walking towards Toris, Gilbert leading the way. Ludwig followed close behind; the last thing he wanted was to lose his brother. Sure, Gilbert could be excruciatingly irritating, but he needed him more than anything. If he didn't have his brother with him, Ludwig might just kill someone.

"Hey, Ludwig!"

Ludwig looked back, trying to find the person who called out his name. But there was no one looking at him and waving like they knew him, just a mass of dirty humans. Ludwig turned back to Gilbert, only to find that his brother was no longer in front of him. In fact, he was nowhere in sight. Ludwig couldn't see his white hair, or the faded blue of his uniform. Everyone around him was a stranger, not one familiar face. Frantically he looked about the crowd. Gilbert was quite hard to lose, but he had completely vanished.

A memory of being a tiny country abruptly hit him, taking over his thoughts. Ludwig was just big enough that he could open the door, and he had wandered outside without Gilbert. He wanted to go explore the forest like the grownups did, and that was exactly what he was going to do. With only a stick to defend himself, the small boy wandered through the trees, pretending he was a brave knight. But when the sun started setting and the moon rose above the treetops, he realized he had no clue where his home was.

Like any child would've done, Ludwig had sat at the base of a tree and cried, terrified the monsters in the stories that Gilbert told him would come out and eat him. Every little noise made him jump, from the gentle wind rustling the trees to the howls of a hopefully far off wolf. Cold seeped into his small body, making him shiver violently. He couldn't remember how long he was in the forest sobbing with his head tucked between his knees, but it was longer than he could ever remember being alone.

Then he had heard someone come crashing through the brush, calling out for him. Then there were several voices, all calling out his name. This had only scared little Ludwig more, and he got ready to beat off any demons after his blood, holding up his stick. He was about to smack Gilbert when he came out of the shadows, followed by Roderich, Elizabeta, and a small girl Ludwig had never seen before. After Ludwig got over the initial shock, he burst into tears again and ran up to Gilbert. They had all cried together, hugging Ludwig tightly and telling him how scared they were and how he should never run off again.

Ludwig snapped out of the memory, his mind racked with panic. There was never any Roderich, Elizabeta, or small girl in the memory before. It had only been Gilbert who came to save him. What were these new people doing there? Gilbert was the only hero who had held him that night, sobbing along with his brother.

Suddenly someone grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the crowd, dragging him to the ground. Ludwig fell on his back, making his head scream with pain. For a second he was confused as he tried to tell who was standing over him, and he saw that night in the forest, Gilbert, Roderich, Elizabeta, and the little girl looking down at him with red noses and cheeks from the cold. He reached out to touch this mysterious girl, but she disappeared when he tried to grab her hand. He was back in Bolesność, lying in the dirt. Once his eyes fully adjusted, he looked up into the faces of his attackers.

Antonio and Gilbert smiled back.

* * *

 **A/N: Hello!  
**

 **This chapter is shorter than the previous two, and the last one that was edited on my old laptop. I swear, I'm going to burn that thing. Not only has it deleted chapters numerous time, but it always autocorrects Sczcecin to Czechs.**

 **My Polish in this all comes from Google Translate, so please correct me if something is wrong. I wish I had someone I could ask that knew Polish, but this is the best I can do at this point.**

 **I want to thank the people who actually read through all the chapters. It makes me happy to see people are at least reading my story, even if it's not the best story they've ever read in their lifetime.**

 **Hope to see you next chapter!**


	7. Old Enimies, New Enimies

" _Hola, mi amigos_." Antonio chirped, seeming all too cheery for the circumstances they were in. "Have you seen Lovi?" His forest green eyes twinkled as he spoke, a sharp contrast to the dried blood in his hair and smears of red on his face.

"He ran off to find you," Gilbert answered, helping Ludwig up. Antonio furrowed his brow in concern, obviously noticing how hurt Ludwig was.

"He couldn't have gotten very far. He should still be around here somewhere," Ludwig added, resisting the urge to beat his brother senseless for dragging him to the ground.

"We can help you look if you want," Gilbert offered.

" _Gracias_." Antonio gave them a curt nod and began looking for the Italian.

Gilbert and Ludwig began calling out for Lovino like he was a lost puppy, and Gilbert was grabbing anyone with dark brown hair in sight. Ludwig had to apologize to countless people, trying to keep one hand on his brother's collar to make sure he wasn't going to lose him again. Several times he tried to explain that not everyone with brown hair was going to be Lovino, but Gilbert was relentless as he searched.

Ludwig's mind was still spinning with thoughts of that strange girl who had suddenly appeared in his memory. Ludwig _knew_ that face. The name of the girl was right on the tip of his tongue, like someone he had been introduced to and met again a few weeks later with only a vague thought as to who they were.

"Lovino!" Antonio shrieked, running over to a man with a filthy bandage on his right thigh. Lovino turned at the sound of his name, his amber eyes growing wide. Antonio jumped onto Lovino, giving him a huge hug. "I thought you were gone!" He cried, rocking Lovino back and forth.

Lovino didn't say anything, just held Antonio close to him like he was going to slip away. Ludwig and Gilbert came over to the two, surprised to find Lovino smiling again. It was quickly gone once he caught sight of Gilbert, Lovino pushing Antonio away. The Spaniard was stunned, trying to pull Lovino back into his arms again, but he stepped away from him.

"Did you help this bastard find me?" He growled, trying to act like he wasn't almost in tears. His voice cracked as he spoke, giving away just how ecstatic he was.

Gilbert shrugged, and Lovino ran a finger across his throat while mouthing the words "I'm going to kill you."

Antonio properly thanked the two of them, before going back into a slur of nonsense about how much he missed Lovino, beaming and holding hands with the Italian. Lovino tried to hide his excitement by pretending he didn't miss Antonio at all, shooing Ludwig and Gilbert away like they were mangy dogs. Gilbert and Ludwig said their goodbyes to the two, walking away from the scene Antonio was making.

They didn't make it very far before running into Toris, who seemed to be in a much better mood than when they last met.

"I think I'll need to take extra care of you two." He said, one hand on his gun. He seemed slightly nervous around Ludwig, looking him over carefully. It made Ludwig want to lunge at him just to startle the Lithuanian, but getting shot wasn't on his list of things to do tonight.

Up close Toris looked much older than he used to. Although, Ludwig hadn't seen the trembling Baltic nation since much before the war began, and he couldn't quite get a good look at him whilst being strangled.

Now Toris had the faint beginnings of a beard, much like Francis. His chocolate colored hair was pulled into a ponytail and slightly longer, hovering right over his shoulder. The green eyes of his were like a dying fire, mostly empty with a little bit of life left. But the one thing that caught Ludwig's eye was the multiple scars covering his arms and face. It looked like he had gotten tangled in barbed wire and then was whipped repeatedly. Along with the red marks of bullets, he looked like he should be dead by now.

"Plus I've prepared a special cell for you nations. I hope you don't mind being with some of the other countries." He nudged the two towards a large building, still keeping a hand on his gun.

Once inside, they were inspected for multiple diseases and health problems. They were either labeled "good" or "defective." The prisoners labeled defective were taken into another room, which Ludwig knew all too well was a gas chamber. He forced himself to look away, trying to block out the voices telling the weak to take off their clothes without even bothering for the "shower" lies.

Thankfully, the two of them were marked as good. Ludwig had to try not to scream when the inspector had tapped the lump on the back of his head, but other than that they were still perfectly fine.

They were lead into another room by another guard, a hall filled with several hundred other prisoners. A man stood at the front of the hall, his head hung low. He appeared to be collecting the clothes from everyone, as each prisoner had to remove their uniforms before being cleared to go into the next room.

"How dare you degrade me like this! I've already been enslaved by your sorry asses, and now you want me to _strip in front of everyone_?! And don't act like you don't understand me! I've known you long enough to know that you can understand German!" A prisoner at the front of the line shouted while stomping his foot. Ludwig instantly recognized him as Basch, with his short stature and thick accent.

"I'm-I'm really sorry." The man collecting the clothes was flustered, holding up his hand. "But it's Feliks' policy." Strange, he too sounded familiar to Ludwig. The accent, the color of his hair, and something about his face reminded him of someone.

Eventually Basch took off his uniform, but not without some encouragement from Toris. Ludwig flinched at the crack of the whip; Gilbert looked away, beginning to unbutton his shirt. Everyone was suddenly quick to comply with the guards ordering them to remove all of their clothes.

Toris muttered a few words in the ear of the man at the front of the room, but he still didn't bring his head up. He hardly acknowledged Toris's existence, until he got a handful of his platinum blond hair yanked so the two were at the same eye level. After what Ludwig could only assume were a few angry threats to the man, Toris turned and waved at the brothers and ducked into the next room.

When the two reached the front of the line, the man's head jerked up. "Is that really you?"

Ludwig was looking into the eyes of a man he'd never expected to see here, Ivan Braginsky.

"I never thought I'd be so happy to see you two!" Ivan exclaimed. He too had changed, his face hardened and eyes void of their normal childish cruelty. His trademark scarf was gone, and among the scars and bandages on his neck was a large number, either tattooed or burned into him. He still maintained his size though, easily twice the weight of some of the other prisoners the two had seen.

Ivan Braginsky, number 2027, gave the two of them a giant hug, a huge grin splitting his face.

"I never thought I'd be this happy to see you while I was wearing nothing!" Gilbert laughed, pushing away from Ivan.

"Terribly sorry we can't talk longer," Ivan suddenly said in a hushed voice, snapping to attention like a hunting dog that had just heard a rustle of leaves. "But our cell is right across from yours. We can talk later, da?"

"Who is this other?" You said 'our', right?" Gilbert handed him the uniforms, making sure his beloved diary was wrapped carefully inside.

"Don't worry. You'll get some of your stuff back. Feliks gave my flask back." He pulled the said flask out of his pocket, his violet eyes still scanning the room nervously.

"You avoided his question," Ludwig said, watching Ivan write down two numbers on a clipboard.

"You'll meet him soon enough. Now, you two really need to get going." Ivan pushed the two gently into the next room, prodding them forward with his pen.

"Make sure I get my journal back," Gilbert called back. "Oh, and the pen!"

"For sure, comrade!" Ivan waved at them, smiling. Little did the brothers know that this was the first time in months Ivan had smiled.

* * *

Much to their surprise, Toris dragged the two away from everyone else after they had been sprayed down with the chemical disinfectants. Ludwig wondered why they still burned like a wildfire and why someone hadn't come up with something less flesh melting, but that was nothing new. What was more confusing Ludwig was the fact that they were being led outside of the camp. Toris was taking them towards a back gate, far away from where everyone else was. Ludwig was more embarrassed than Gilbert seemed to be being led about with only underwear on, trying to avoid eye contact with everyone. He knew he must be rose red by the time they reached the gate out of the camp, hiding his face from view. Gilbert loved the attention, waving and blowing kisses to anyone who pointed at the trio. Toris just rolled his eyes and snapped at anyone who made catcalls at the two wearing nearly nothing.

"Hey, Toris! Did Ivan get replaced?" One prisoner shouted, elbowing the man next to him.

"Damn, those two are a lot hotter than that fat ass Russian!" The other laughed, making Ludwig blush more.

"I think you're forgetting I could have your head chopped off right now! I'd enjoy watching that! Maybe the fat ass Russian would like to join me too!" Toris called back, smirking as the two prisoners dropped any more remarks about Ivan.

Without any words to the two guards standing at the gate, Toris motioned for them to open it. Once a guard had fumbled with the keys and finally got the gate unlocked, Toris gave them a barely audible "thank you" and stepped outside of the fence. Waiting until he heard the gate close, the Lithuanian took the two on a gravel path into the dark forest. After what seemed like an eternity of awkward silence, the group reached a small two story building.

"Hey, Feliks?" Toris shouted as he stepped into the building. "I got the two you wanted to see here!"

"Thank you!" Feliks chirped from somewhere down the hall. He poked his head out from one of the rooms, smiling at Toris. "Can you take them upstairs and get them cleaned up?"

"No problem," Toris answered, taking off his coat. He turned to Ludwig and Gilbert, pulling out his ponytail. "Follow me, and don't touch anything. Try not to get too much dirt on the floor, okay?"

"Yes, Mom," Gilbert groaned, rolling his eyes.

Toris wasn't going to waste his breath trying to fight with Gilbert, grabbing aforementioned Prussian by the arm and pulling him up the stairs. Gilbert protested loudly, trying to claw his hand off. Ludwig followed behind the two, looking about the strange building they were in. It appeared to be Feliks and the Baltics' home, seeing as it was considerably nicer than the rest of the camp. Everything was neat and clean, the walls painted bright reds and blues instead of the dull grey color everything else was in Bolesność.

He stopped at a closet, pulling out two clean grey uniforms. "Here," He said as he handed one to Ludwig, and attempted to smother Gilbert with his. Gilbert took it from his hands, hissing like a cat. Giving Gilbert what Ludwig could only describe as a death glare, Toris threw open a door, gesturing for the two to enter.

"Alright, I can trust you two to be alone in a bathroom without making some stupid escape plan, right?" Toris looked back at them, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Don't ruin anything, got it?"

"Yes, sir!" Gilbert gave him a mock salute, stepping into the bathroom. A few seconds later, the water turned on, Gilbert making some sort of inhuman shrieking noise.

"Holy _shit_ this water is hot!" He cried out, follow by the sound of several things dropping.

Toris turned to Ludwig, shaking his head. "Can I trust you to keep your demon brother under control?"

"Do you trust your prisoners with everything?"

Toris ran a hand through his hair, a thin smile on his face. "I'm not sure I can. But we do things different around here."

"Like what?" Ludwig glared at Toris with cold blue eyes, wondering just how this man was so damn powerful. He looked absolutely pathetic, completely unworthy of this title he now held of one of the most successful empires.

"For starters," Toris said, walking back downstairs. " _Ani kura za darmo nie gdacze_. _"_

"What does that mean?"

"Basically, nothing for nothing. So if you're giving us nothing by not working enough, then we'll give you nothing to eat, nothing to drink, and nothing to live for," Toris explained, leaning over the stair railing. He smiled to himself, drumming his fingers on the railing.

"What sort of camp are you trying to run here?" Ludwig said, putting a hand on the wall to steady himself. His legs burned from walking for days, and he did not want to crumple in front of Toris. No way was he going to let Toris know he was weak, as the Lithuanian would jump on the opportunity.

Toris looked back at him, green eyes gleaming. "It's not up front torture like you used. The realization and horror just slowly overcomes you, until you figure out just what we're doing here. We work from the shadows instead of standing out in the open and killing people left and right. Of course, _you_ wouldn't understand this." He said, acting like he was of so much higher standards than Ludwig.

"In other words, welcome to hell, Ludwig, otherwise known as Bolesność. Satan will be waiting for you in the kitchen." He gave Ludwig one last glance and then vanished downstairs, letting his words hang in the quiet of the home.

"Hey, Luddy!" Gilbert shouted, rapping on the wall a few times to get his attention. "Come in here!"

"What makes you think I want to take a shower with you?" Ludwig growled, turning away from the stairs and taking a few steps into the bathroom. Gilbert had already made quite a big mess, puddles of muddied water on the floor and several bottles of shampoos and the like scattering the floor.

Gilbert stuck his head out of the shower curtain, holding up a pink bottle. "It's bubblegum scented soap stuff." He popped the lid off, waving it at Ludwig. "Smell it."

"I don't want to smell like Feliks." Ludwig pushed it away from him.

"No, seriously. I mean, where the hell do you even get stuff like this? You need to smell it."

"No, I don't."

Gilbert squeezed a blob of the soap into his hand, and then shoved it into Ludwig's face. It did in fact smell like bubblegum, but ten thousand times stronger now that it was covering his face and in his nose. It burned like someone had stuck a match in his nose, without the smoke.

"See?" Gilbert smiled, disappearing back into the shower.

"It burns like hell," Ludwig answered, wiping at his nose. "And it's the only thing I can smell at the moment."

"Do you think Feliks would be pissed if I used this whole bottle of buttermilk shampoo?"

"Did you even listen to what I said?" Ludwig groaned, wiping at his nose once again. He was pretty sure the soap's intended purpose was not to make pink snot.

"You know what, I'm going to use the whole damned bottle and he can't stop me!" Gilbert announced rather loudly. "I'll save some for you, Luddy! And then we can match!"

"I do not want to match girl scents with you."

"Please? It'll be cute."

"I am anything but cute, and that goes for you too."

Ludwig gave up trying to reason with his older brother that he wasn't going to smell like a girl, instead just leaning up against the wall and waiting for Gilbert to get out. Ten minutes later he was still waiting, after listening to Gilbert sing several off key songs, use more shampoo and conditioners than a whole army needed, and splashing Ludwig with water enough that said irritated brother practically got a shower.

Gilbert stuck his hand out of the shower curtain, turning the water off. "Can you hand me a towel?"

Ludwig snatched a fluffy white one from a hook, handing it to his brother. Gilbert wrapped it around his waist, shaking his hair dry like a wet dog. Shoving past him, Ludwig stepped into the shower. More bottles of soaps and shampoo bottles than Ludwig thought four people could need lined the walls, most of them intended for females. Grabbing a blue one that didn't seem too feminine, Ludwig turned on the shower and ran a handful of shampoo through his dirty blond locks.

"Are you using the buttermilk stuff?" Gilbert asked in a sing song voice.

"No, I'm not. I am going to use what men use, not little girls." Ludwig groaned, ignoring his brother's pleas for them to match.

Feliks was anything but happy to see the two when they finally came into the kitchen. He put down the dishes he had been doing, hanging the dirtied towel back up. Glancing over the two doubtfully, he took off his apron and walked over to the table.

"Like, did you use everything? Seriously, I can smell you from here." He huffed, taking his seat next to Toris at the table. Ludwig and Gilbert took their places in front of them, trying to seem as equally important as the two in front of them appeared to be. "Honestly, Liet, didn't I tell you to watch them?"

"As long as they're still alive and not running far away, I think they're fine," Toris said smugly.

"M'kay. Whatever floats your boat," Feliks grabbed a folder from one end of the table, pulling out two papers and placing them in front of Ludwig and Gilbert. "This basically is an agreement that you won't say anything to anyone about what happens here, okay? I don't want to do this, but the like, higher ups do." Feliks gave them each a pen, motioning for them to sign on the line at the bottom.

"And what'll happen if we do?" Gilbert asked, clicking his pen repeatedly.

"We'll cover that later," Toris answered, clenching his teeth at the sound of the clicks. Gilbert caught how much this annoyed the Lithuanian, and began clicking it more furiously.

"But what if I want to know now?" Gilbert leaned back in his chair, putting his arms behind his head.

"Could we just skip to that part?" Feliks suggested, twirling a strand of blond hair.

"I guess we could, although it ruins the whole suspense of it," Toris sighed, pulling a box that sat in front of him closer. He pulled out a loop of keys from his pocket, unlocking the box with a click. From it he removed a syringe, full of a glowing blue liquid.

"This," Feliks started, "Is what will happen to you if you decide to talk."

Toris held the syringe closer to them, his finger on the plunger. "It shuts down what makes us nations tick for a short time. It's in high enough concentrations kill a regular person almost instantly. We really shouldn't be holding it for too long. But for nations, the glowing stuff turns us almost into humans, which makes you much easier to kill. Don't know much of what happens to your country when you die though. And don't worry; we won't use it on you right now."

Gilbert sat up straight and tapped the glowing tube with his pen. "So, what's it made of?"

"Why would we tell you? Like, are you stupid?" Feliks crossed his arms, looking at the syringe and then back at Gilbert.

"It was just a question."

"And that was just an answer."

Gilbert leaned back again, propping his feet up on the table. "Can you give me a hint?"

"I picked it up at Mr. America's house," Toris replied calmly, putting the syringe back in its box. "It's very famous there. I think there's even a play about it."

"Anyway, you guys need to sign those papers. Preferably now." Feliks said, the annoyance evident in his voice. He was tapping his foot impatiently while glaring at the two of them as if it was going to make them intimidated enough to sign it.

Ludwig carefully looked over the page, making sure there was no "we have the right to kill you" section. But there wasn't anything about that, just a page of lawyer speak for "if you talk about this, we'll get mad, and we might hurt you, but we won't really do anything serious."

He looked to his brother, who was already signing his name. After he finished, he looked up at Ludwig and nodded, wordlessly telling him to do the same. Ludwig was almost positive that he hadn't read it over. Gilbert had the tendency to stumble blindly into these things, without bothering to read the fine print. Still, if Gilbert thought it was okay to sign, then why shouldn't Ludwig sign it? It obviously wasn't saying that they were going to be killed with the glowing blue stuff or be owned by the Polish brat.

Putting most of his faith in his brother, Ludwig signed his name neatly on the dotted line. Feliks and Toris quickly pulled the papers away from them, Feliks putting them back in the folder. He removed another couple of pages, putting two new documents in front of them.

"This," Feliks leaned over the table, folding his hands. "Says that we own you."

"Hold up," Gilbert once again sat up straight. "You never said anything about owning us."

"I just did, didn't I?" Feliks smiled. "And you don't want to refuse this one."

"You can't do this," Ludwig growled, pushing the contract away from him.

"Who said so? Oh, wait, that's right. No one said that you can't like, own another country. Potato-Nose owned Liet for a long time, and no one told him he couldn't do that, now did they?" Feliks still had that sickening smile as he spoke, playing with a stray strand of blond hair.

"Listen here, you little shit," Gilbert snapped, his red eyes blazing. "You have no idea how wrong Ivan was. You never spent a day in that house, got locked in that basement for years. That would have made you have nightmares for centuries, seeing how pathetic you are. _You don't know pain_."

"And where do you think we were during that time?" Eduard laughed from somewhere behind them.

Ludwig turned to face Raivis and Eduard, each of them with a glowing syringe of their own. They came over to Gilbert and Ludwig, holding the syringe uncomfortably close to their necks. Ludwig wasn't sure if Raivis could really push the syringe into his neck, but it was already making Ludwig worried to have the long needle that close to him.

"Do you think that I wasn't tortured there?" Toris pounded his fist on the table, standing up.

"I don't know, you seemed to enjoy being Ivan's toy." Gilbert smirked, although that quickly disappeared when Eduard shoved the syringe a bit closer to his neck.

"You know, I could have you killed right now. And I wouldn't care. I've always hated you, Prussia, and don't think that I'll feel some sort of sympathy for you. You got the easy part of the Soviet Union."

"There wasn't an _easy_ part. Just because you were Ivan's bitch for who knows how long doesn't mean I had it so much better. Basement. Cold. Medieval instruments of torture. Maybe I got food two times a week. Is all of this adding up in you empty head?" Gilbert slammed the table as he listed off the things Ivan did to him, his voice thick with anger. "And unlike you, I've actually forgiven him."

"Forgiven _him_?" Toris burst out into hysterical laughter. "Oh, please, I know you want to kill him as much as I do! You can lie to yourself all you want, but that doesn't change the truth. What makes you think you're so much higher than me because you've _'forgiven'_ Ivan?" He gasped between laughs.

"Obviously, I still have a human heart. I'm not holding grudges from the 1920's, I'm not repeating history, _and I'm sure as hell not signing this contract_!"

"Oh, if you're so much more human than us, then Eduard, would please do the honors," Toris beamed. Eduard nodded, grabbed Gilbert's arm, and jammed the needle into his vein. He barely pushed down on the plunger, releasing very little of the mysterious blue liquid into Gilbert's blood. The Prussian bit his lip, obviously trying not to cry out. His breath was coming in sharp gasps, but he refused to start crying or screaming in front of everyone. Within a few seconds his lip was bleeding, sharp canines tearing into the flesh.

Toris tapped the contract with his index finger, quite pleased with Gilbert's torture.

"You are going to sign this _right now_."

* * *

 **A/N: Oh, I like writing Toris like the villain of the story! He's just so sweet, but evil at the same time!  
**

 **Anyway, I used WikiQuote for the Polish this time. Sorry if it doesn't make much sense to anyone who knows the language.**

 **Can anyone guess what the blue stuff is? I'm taking several creative liberties with that, seeing as this is a fictional story about personified countries in a WWIII setting. I actually have no idea what the effect of it would be on a human, but as I said, they're personified countries.**

 **See you all next chapter!**

 **Happy Halloween!**


	8. He Loved Her

Ludwig, Gilbert and Basch stood in the darkness, waiting to be "counted," as Toris had called it. Gilbert was still fuming, muttering things about Toris and Ivan. Bits of dried blood clung to his lip, and the small dot where the needle had been was already turning purple. But the Prussian was even more furious about being owned like property, voicing his opinion loudly over and over. Ludwig was going to scream if he heard one more vivid description of the Soviet Union, complete with Gilbert's interpretation of everyone's voices. Fake Russian accents, high pitched voices for Toris and Raivis, and sound effects.

But if Ludwig was irritated, Basch was beyond furious. Every word that spilled from Gilbert's mouth made the Swiss man's eyes alight with anger, and an idiot could see he was resisting the urge to hit Gilbert. At one point he held his own hand to his side, fingers twitching madly.

"And then Ivan had the nerve to snap the record right in front of everyone, and he tried to cut me up with it even though –"

"Who cares about some stupid record?!" Basch interrupted, turning around and grabbing a fistful of Gilbert's uniform. He stood up on his tiptoes, staring into Gilbert's eyes with the ferocity of a savage beast. "I swear, if I had any sort of weapon I could use against you, I already would've _slaughtered_ you! God, and you wonder why Ivan tried to cut you up! I would've done the same!"

"What makes you think you can touch me so freely?!" Gilbert shoved Basch down into the dirt.

"What makes you think you can talk so much?!" Basch stood back up, pushing Gilbert.

"Don't touch me like that, you animal!" Gilbert screeched.

"Then stop talking at volume six trillion!"

Over the two's fighting, Ludwig could hear the men's cries from the front of the line. They were screams of agony, desperate pleas for whatever was happening to stop. The only clue he had as to what was going on was the thick scent of smoke in the air, and the faint glimpse of flames.

Suddenly it all connected. The black numbers on Ivan's neck, the fire, the counting. The prisoners were being branded like cattle. Not only were they being owned, but being marked so they knew who belonged to them. It was completely disgusting, making a new hatred arise in Ludwig's chest. How was no one finding out about this? They were only a few kilometers from Szczecin, and wouldn't most normal beings wonder about the dense amounts of smoke coming from the forests? Then again, they were doing this at night. No one could see the smoke when it was pitch black. _Damn it,_ Ludwig mentally cursed. _Those bastards know exactly what they're doing! I thought they'd be able to slip up and we'd be out of here in a month or two!_

"What's on fire?" Gilbert asked, looking up from his fight with Basch.

"People," Ludwig answered, crossing his arms in a vain effort to retain some warmth. The night winds were even colder here than in Berlin, and the uniforms were quite thin.

Basch took a step away from Ludwig, looking quite startled. "God, when did you get so morbid?"

"No, seriously, think about it. Fire _, 'counting,'_ the black numbers on Ivan's neck." Ludwig listed them off on his fingers, wincing as yet another person howled in pain.

"Oh, God…" Gilbert muttered, finally connecting everything.

Not one of them said a word for a long time after that, each of them hiding in their own thoughts. Ludwig was trying not to imagine how horrible getting hot metal pressed into his neck would feel, and think about happy things. Feliciano was a definite positive here, and he centered most of his thoughts on the Italian.

"Knowing my luck, I'll get '69' on my neck," Gilbert whispered to Ludwig, attempting to lighten the mood. It wasn't as effective as Feliciano, but it helped calm Ludwig down a bit.

"Or you could get '666'," Ludwig retorted, giving his brother a playful shove. "Suits you pretty well."

"Oh, yeah? I bet Basch will get _'short asshole'_ stamped on him." Gilbert grinned, pointing to the Swiss in front of them.

"I heard that, douchebag," Basch snapped, turning around. "You'll get 'most worthless piece of shit to grace this planet.'"

Gilbert put a hand on his chest in mock surprise. "Why, I thought I'd get ' _best big bro ever._ '"

"More _like 'worst big brother ever,'_ " Ludwig muttered.

"Shut it, or I'll make sure you get _'Grumpy the Crapwad!'_ Would you like that to stay on your neck for eternity, Luddy?"

The three of them were now drawing dangerously close to the front of the line. The smoke from the fires burned Ludwig's eyes and throat, and the revolting sizzling the hot iron made when it was pressed into someone's neck filled his ears.

The only thing worse than that was the screams. It was several times louder than when Ludwig regrettably agreed to go to a haunted house with Feliciano and Alfred. And that was enough to make him go deaf.

This really was WWII all over again.

Before any of them could even react, Basch was dragged off in the arms of a Polish soldier. He started kicking and yelling, going from German to scraps of Polish to English in a hopeless struggle to get understood. His arms were chained behind him, and the soldiers quickly slid the chains around a post. Someone called out a number, and the small metal brands were linked together. Then the hot iron was stamped into his neck. Ludwig had only seen Basch cry once, when Lilli was deathly sick. The Swiss spent a week at her bedside, going from complete panic to hysterics, praying frantically for her fever to go down. And now he was seeing him cry again, begging in several different languages for them to stop.

Ludwig became distant, not fully aware of the world around him. If this made Basch cry, what was it going to do to Ludwig? It would at least make him tear up. He felt Gilbert grab his hand, holding it so tightly it cut off circulation. Gilbert was scared too, even though his face didn't show it. And then Basch was pushed away, tears streaming down his face.

Basch Zwingli, number 140084, slipped away from the light of the fire, fading into the night.

When the soldier came to grab Gilbert, he lashed out, kicking and hitting the man. The soldier didn't even flinch, as if he was used to this. Screams and murder threats must've been a common thing for him, as he just kept a stone face and chained Gilbert up.

In an instant, Gilbert too was counted.

Gilbert Beilschmidt, number 140085.

Ludwig didn't put up a fight or even protest. He let the soldier lead him over to the fire, his mind completely blank. The man said a few words to Ludwig and called out for a number, but the words fell on deaf ears. Why should he care what these demons were saying?

He wasn't even close to prepared for the pain.

Once, what seemed like millennia ago, Ludwig was sent to one of the death camps in Austria to evaluate it. While he was overseeing that everything ran smoothly there, a fight broke out between a prisoner and one of the men who worked in the kitchens. He stopped whatever he was doing at the moment and watched the two with curiosity. It appeared that the prisoner was trying to steal bread, and the chef had caught him in the act. With a few more shouts to the prisoner, the chef grabbed him and pulled him into the kitchen. Seeing as the men who were leading Ludwig around were talking to one of the commanders, Ludwig silently slipped away and watched what the chef was doing to the prisoner. The chef had an apparently hot skillet pressed into the man's chest, cursing at the top of his lungs over the man's screams. Ludwig thought it was ridiculous that the man was reduced to tears over that. Logically it shouldn't hurt much worse than a bad burn, which was nothing to cry about.

Now he knew first hand why a man cries out when a hot iron is pressed into his skin.

He waited until the man unchained him, shoving him away. Ludwig followed his brother's lead, reaching up and gingerly touching his new number. The burn stung like mad, waves of heat pouring from the reddened skin.

Ludwig Beilschmidt, number 140086.

 _No, I don't want to be known by a number! Oh, God, it's karma, isn't it?_

"Ludwig! Ludwig! Are you even listening to me?!" Toris shouted, stomping his foot a few times.

Toris grabbed Ludwig, leading him to a cell house away from the fire. He made a few stiff remarks about the flags hanging above the door, each hand stitched. An Austrian flag, a Russian flag, a Hungarian flag, and a Chinese flag hung proudly above them. Each flag was about the size of an unfolded newspaper, made of patches of torn fabric. Beneath all the flags a large number hung over the door, red with rust.

His new home, Cell Block 7.

* * *

"Oh, my God." A voice called from one of the cells. "You too?"

Ludwig turned to find Roderich staring at him, his amethyst eyes full of sorrow. His glasses were perched on the edge of his nose, the left lens cracked and seemingly ready to shatter. They did nothing to hide the tears that were welled up in his eyes.

"Roderich?" Ludwig reached out to him, but the Austrian put a single thin finger to his lips.

"Not right now. She's sleeping." He pointed to Elizabeta, the Hungarian sound asleep in his lap. As Roderich bent his head to look at her, Ludwig could see his number in the dim light.

Roderich Edelstein, number 64001.

And in his lap, Elizabeta Héderváry, number 64002.

"She's close to death now. I had a captured chaplain do the last rites today." He explained, swiping at his tears. "I think tonight's it for her."

"But how? She can't really _die_ , can she?" Ludwig was flustered, hoping Roderich was just being overly dramatic.

"They used the radium on her when….she resisted orders. I wasn't there, and I couldn't do anything to stop her, and oh God, now she's going to…" Roderich's voice faded away, replaced by stifled sobs.

Ludwig didn't know how to respond. Roderich's former wife, a woman who acted like Ludwig's big sister, on her deathbed. It all seemed wrong. They weren't supposed to die. Elizabeta had been around for centuries, witnessed countless wars, and always been there for everyone with a smile. Before Ludwig could think of anything comforting to say, Toris was behind him, shoving him forward.

"And here is your cell," Toris said, pushing him inside. Ludwig opened his mouth to protest, but Toris held up his hand and slammed the door shut. "You three get some rest; you have a long day tomorrow."

After Toris locked the door behind him, he was gone.

Ludwig glanced about the cell, trying to take in his new home for who knows how long. It was nothing special, just three cots, with Gilbert and Basch already occupying two. There were no lights, other than the dim ones hanging in the hall. They did have a window, blocked with thick iron bars.

"Welcome to our humble abode," Gilbert yawned, sitting up to look at Ludwig. "Where's Ivan?"

"Don't know. Have you seen Elizabeta?" Ludwig asked, lowering his voice.

Gilbert shook his head. "Is she here?"

"You would know if you paid more attention to things," Roderich huffed. "She's right here with me."

"Where? Like, what cell are you in?" Gilbert jumped up, trying to pinpoint Roderich's voice.

"Next to you, you fool. On your left!" Roderich sniffed.

Gilbert walked over to the wall, knocking on it. "Hey, Elizabeta? Are you okay?"

Roderich was trying hard not to break down into hysterics. "She's asleep. I think tonight's it for her."

Gilbert's eyes widened. "Tonight? As in, _tonight_ tonight?"

"No, tomorrow's tonight. _Of course tonight_!" Roderich snapped through his sobs.

Gilbert pounded on the wall, his red eyes wide. "Wake her up. I have to talk to her." He choked.

"I'm not going to wake her up just so you can be an asshole to her!" Roderich shouted. "Elizabeta doesn't need you being rude to her on the final night of her life!"

"I _said_ , wake her up!"

"I'm already awake… what with all that noise." Elizabeta said, her voice faint.

"You can hear me, right?" Gilbert asked gently, losing the edginess and demanding tone he just had.

Elizabeta coughed. "How could…I not?"

Gilbert took a deep breath, steadying himself against the wall. "Remember the time we spent together when we were little?"

"What about it? Oh, please, don't tell me…"

"Yes, I am going to tell you what you think I'm going to tell you. Anyway, I look back on that as the best time of my life now. Even though I was a complete ass to you, that was just my way of expressing how much I loved you. For a while, you had me thinking I was gay. But then you actually turned out to be a girl, not some weird girlish looking boy thing." Gilbert smiled. "Thanks for screwing me up permanently."

"I was quite the strange child, wasn't I?"

"Yeah. Totally weird." Gilbert laughed. "And then, after all of that, you go and get engaged to Roderich. I was devastated. For weeks, I just sat in my room and cried."

Elizabeta laughed weakly. "You, crying? Aren't you too awesome for that?"

"No, seriously. Ask Ludwig. I could barely stand to go to the wedding. But I was there, right? I sucked up my love for you and put on my happy face. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to sit and watch your enemy marry the girl you love?"

Roderich started to say something, but Gilbert quickly started talking again.

"For the longest time, I hated Roderich. Oh, who am I kidding, I still do. But I wanted to be the one curling up in bed with you, taking you out to dinner. Every time I caught you two together, I put on my fake happiness, so you wouldn't be upset. But right now, I truly am happy for you. Getting to die in the arms of the love of your life. Hell, I'm probably going to die in Basch's arms or something."

"Gilbert," Basch began to nag, but fell short, noticing Gilbert's tears.

"And now look at me," He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Professing my undying love for you in front of your own damn ex-husband. Hell, if you did live through this, I'd be surprised if you even wanted to be around me. I must seem like the worst person in this whole damned world."

"That's not…true." Elizabeta assured him.

"You're too sweet. Always have been, even in the face of danger. Now it's my turn to be the sweet one."

Ludwig watched in silence as he forced his hand through the iron bars at the front of the cell, bending his arm at a seemingly bone shattering angle so he could hold Elizabeta's hand.

"Elizabeta Héderváry, I have loved you since I laid my eyes on you. Even when I thought you were a boy." Gilbert sobbed, using his free hand to scrub at his tears.

"I love you…too. Almost…more than…Roderich."

"C'mon, aren't I a lot prettier than Roderich?" He asked hopefully.

"No," Elizabeta laughed. "But you do have…red eyes…"

"I know, they're beautiful. For a second there, I thought I had a chance." Gilbert beamed. "Really, you're always tricking me, aren't you?"

Nothing but unnerving silence. Ludwig knew what happened, but he didn't want to think of it. Perhaps Elizabeta was just being quiet, or fell back asleep. She seemed pretty tired while the two were talking. Yes, that must be it. He wasn't going to let himself believe that she was gone.

"Elizabeta?" Gilbert cried out, pounding on the wall.

"She's gone," Roderich sobbed. "Died loving… _you_! Of all the people in this cursed world, _you!_ "

Gilbert drew his hand back, the jagged edges of the cinderblocks cutting up his arm. He fell back onto his cot, crying. Red streaks ran down from his scraped up wrist, making tiny spots on his uniform.

"I didn't even say goodbye!" He wailed, digging his nails into his face. " _I didn't say goodbye!_ I might as well just – gah! How can I be so _stupid_?!"

"You're not stupid. She knows how much you loved her and –" Ludwig started.

" _Shut up!_ " Gilbert screamed, burying his face in his pillow. "You don't know what it's like! Don't pull this shit on me! You've never lost anyone!"

"What do you know about losing people?!"

"A helluva lot more than you do, you brat!" Gilbert glared at him with red eyes, tears pouring down his face. "And I sure as hell know you've never had your heart broken."

Ludwig was speechless, unable to come up with anything to snap back at Gilbert. He just sat with his mouth open, trying to register what Gilbert had just told him. Why did he think he knew so much more about his heart being broken? And who did he think he was, calling Ludwig a brat when clearly the younger brother was the more mature one?

"If you're just going to look at me stupid, then so be it. See if I care, you worthless brat. " His brother turned away from him, crying into his cot. That ended any attempt at consoling him.

Ludwig stayed awake almost all night, listening to Gilbert cry himself to sleep and Roderich sob until dawn, clutching Elizabeta to his chest.

* * *

 **A/N: Well, this hurt more than it should. It's funny for me to write PruHun, considering it's one of my NOTP's. I actually ship AusHun with an aggressive passion. This story was originally made for my little sister, who ships PruHun. I love her beyond reason, so I was able to set aside my dislike for the ship and write this for her. Every time she reads this chapter she starts crying. Oh, she's so weak.  
**

 **Did any of you figure out what the blue stuff in the syringe was? If you missed it, Ivan will talk about it much more in the next chapter.**

 **See you next chapter!**


	9. Countries Bury Their Dead

Ludwig somewhat awoke the next morning to the sound of keys jangling as Toris unlocked the cell block's door. Ludwig's eyelids felt heavy, his entire body seemed to refuse to move with any speed. He knew he had to get up for roll call or something like that, but his bed seemed like a much better option.

Toris strode inside, dark circles under his eyes. Evidently, Ludwig wasn't the only one who had a sleepless night. Still, Toris managed to keep a cheery attitude, which was much better than Ludwig was doing.

"I heard there is someone who is no longer living," Toris yawned loudly, stretching just enough that his shoulder popped. "Number 64002 please."

He walked over to Roderich's cell, twirling the keys on his finger. With a tiny click he unlocked the door, humming a song to himself.

 _"No!"_ Roderich yelled as Toris reached for Elizabeta. He slapped Toris' hand away, glaring at him defiantly. "Let me bury her."

"That's not your assignment," He spat, grabbing Roderich's collar.

"Then I'll keep her with me until I can bury her!"

Toris laughed, pushing Roderich away from him. "You'd really keep a dead body for years? Oh, God, how dense can you possibly be? I always thought you had some intelligence out of those Germans, but I guess I was wrong!"

"It's what she would have wanted. You wouldn't understand, since you weren't ever married to someone," He snapped. "And Feliks doesn't count."

"Oh, really?" Toris gave him a crooked grin. He slapped the Austrian across the face, still grinning like a madman. Roderich only tightened his grip on Elizabeta, backing as far away from Toris as he could.

"This is how you want to do this?" With a swift motion Toris grabbed his whip from his belt, raising an eyebrow. "Are you positive? Because I won't hold back, after your little outburst last week about the minimal amount of work I require you to do I've been dying to beat you senseless. Now, hold out your hands."

Roderich lost the rebellious stance he had just had a minute ago, but he held onto Elizabeta with one hand and stuck out the other.

Nine new whip marks later, Toris was carrying off Elizabeta's body, singing _"Edelweiss."_ This only made Roderich angrier, muttering profanities towards the Lithuanian between clenched teeth. Red cuts ran across the palm of his hand, blood making tear-like trails down his skin. He was trying his best not to cry, instead channeling his agony by using several curses Ludwig never thought Roderich would ever say.

"Good morning, Ludwig."

Ludwig followed the familiar Russian accent into the cell directly across from his. Ivan sat upright on his cot, a grim look on his childish face. He looked rather tired as well. The person in the cot next to him was still asleep; Ludwig couldn't tell who they were, as the only bit he could see of them was black hair. But guessing from the Chinese flag over the door it was Yao.

"When did you get here?" Ludwig asked, not remembering Ivan entering during the midst of the disaster the night before.

"I come in much later than everyone else sometimes. Roderich was holding Elizabeta and crying, and you three were asleep." He answered, looking over at said Austrian. "Poor Roderich."

"I didn't know she could've…" Ludwig didn't need to finish his sentence.

"I know. I saw Kiku get shot in the heart, and he came back just fine the next day. But then Elizabeta gets sick, and she's gone."

"I thought nations weren't supposed to ever die." Ludwig choked, the tears from last night threatening to reappear.

Ivan shrugged. "I don't really get how things work with the radium."

"Radium?" Ludwig echoed. Roderich had mentioned that word last night, before everything went wrong.

"It's the blue stuff in the syringes. The Polish scientists just started experimenting with it, after America showed them what it could do. And then they figured out that it can shut down nations, because they used it on Norway for punishment. But he didn't…you know…" Ivan stopped short, looking back over at Roderich.

"Die?" Gilbert finished his sentence, hidden under his blanket. "You can say it. It's not like it'll change anything."

"Well yes, I can say it. But I don't want to upset anyone," Ivan huffed, running a hand through his hair.

"Like who? Roderich's already crying again, I'm about to cry, no one cares about Ludwig or Basch, you're sure as hell pretty damn happy. Oh, and whoever your little girlfriend or boyfriend or thing like that is seems to be _so_ upset right now. Maybe she or he should come join the bratty side over here with Basch and Ludwig. Anyway, none of us can really be wounded more than we already are!"

"You can insult me, but you do _not_ do that to Yao," Ivan growled in a low voice, placing a defensive arm over the sleeping figure.

At the mention of his name, Yao began to stir. He mumbled a few words in Mandarin, brushing Ivan's arm from his chest. Ivan leaned over and whispered something into his ear, which immediately woke him up. Yao jolted upright, his amber eyes wide.

"That can't be right!" Yao cried out, looking to Ivan for an explanation. The Russian nodded solemnly, pointing over to Roderich's cell.

"Aiya! You're lying to me! It's not funny!" He turned to look at Roderich, hoping to find Elizabeta still in his arms. His numbers stuck out against his pale skin, striped by strands of dark hair.

Yao Wang, number 8023.

Tears began welling up in Yao's eyes. Ivan pulled Yao over to him, cuddling with the Chinese man. Yao reluctantly let him, crying into Ivan's sleeve. The Russian gently rubbed Yao's back, trying to calm him down with soft words in Mandarin.

Basch was now awake, grumbling about how loud everyone was being. He didn't seem too saddened by the death of a family member, more disgruntled about not getting much sleep.

"Good morning, Basch," Ivan said, holding Yao close to his chest while rocking him back and forth.

Basch shot him an angry glare. "How can a morning like this be good?"

* * *

Roll call dragged on for hours. Ludwig almost fell asleep twice, and Gilbert spent a good portion of it half asleep on Ivan's shoulder, still refusing to even touch Ludwig. Ivan didn't mind the sleeping Prussian, holding up most of his weight for him. Any time Gilbert was awake he kept his head turned away from his brother and talked to Ivan.

Toris spent a good portion of the time laying out the ground rules for the new prisoners, pacing back and forth on the platform feverously. He made it a point to address the punishment for disobedience, pointing out several examples of discipline, including Roderich. He had several ideas for how a person could be killed, ranging from gas chambers and the like to dismemberment. Each form of punishment was described vividly, Toris getting more and more excited with each word. He was nothing like the sweet Lithuanian Ludwig used to know while he was up on the platform, seeming much more passionate and wild about pain and torment. It was something he'd expect to hear Ivan or Gilbert talking about so lightly, not Toris.

"I have been around for quite a long time. I've seen more than I care to admit of death. I'm not afraid to try anything." Toris glanced over at Ludwig, Basch, and Gilbert, narrowing his green eyes. "I can and _will_ think of more ways than you can imagine, ensuring your death will be as pain filled as possible. I'll enjoy myself while I'm at it too."

He looked over to one of the many guards and nodded. The gates were quickly opened, all of the guards stepping away. They slung their rifles back over their shoulders, holding up their hands to show they had no weapons.

"If anyone of you would care to test this theory, you can run now." Toris motioned towards the gates with a gloved hand. "I'll give you thirty seconds before I order them to start shooting. Maybe even a minute." He scanned the crowd. Not one person dared to run, knowing full well they would probably be dead or mortally wounded in an instant.

"Very good," Toris said, watching the gates close with that same twisted grin he'd been wearing since whipping Roderich's hand. "I'm glad all of you know your place."

After that he made it quite clear that the prisoners were slave labor and considered as nothing more to them. If they fell ill and couldn't work anymore, they would quickly be disposed of. He said it in such a nonchalant way, smiling to no one in particular.

Then they were assigned jobs and sent off to work. Toris seemed much too happy to pick assignments for everyone, until he came to Ludwig. Ivan tried to shake Gilbert awake while Toris was looking over Ludwig, hoping he hadn't noticed. But before Gilbert could fully awaken Toris shot Ivan a look that told him to stop, and Ivan put his hands down to his sides automatically.

Toris' whole demeanor changed, making him much more serious. The Baltic nation carefully examined Ludwig, Basch, and Gilbert, making sure they were fit for the job he had in mind. He pulled something out of his pocket, a large square striped white, green and red. With a smirk he threw it into the dirt, and then smacked Gilbert to wake him up. Gilbert gasped, his wine colored eyes wide. He started to protest, until he saw the flag on the ground.

"You might need that," Toris pointed to the Hungarian flag splayed out on the dirt.

* * *

Ludwig, Gilbert, and Basch trudged out into the early lights of five in the morning, along with several other prisoners. Each of them had been given a shovel and was led to a different section of camp, far away from the main portion. There were no high concrete walls there, only a tall chain link fence wrapped in barbed wire. As with the rest of camp, the only grass was outside of the fence, everything that had grown inside was quickly eaten.

Against the fence the dead were stacked neatly in rows, some wrapped in sheets as a makeshift coffin of sorts, and others were stripped of everything. Most of the guards spoke nothing but their native language, but it was quite clear when they pointed to the ground and shouted.

By the time the sun came over the horizon, Ludwig had seen more corpses than he ever wanted to see again. Gilbert had already tied his shirt around his face as a makeshift mask and they all followed his lead, the stench of death and disease overpowering. No one cared that it was the middle of autumn and the wind seemed to be relentless; it was a much better option than making yourself sick with the smell.

He heard Gilbert mutter something about incinerators a few times, making him wonder why Feliks chose to bury everyone. Surely there wouldn't be enough room. Then he remembered how close to the city they were. Once again, most people would call the fire department if thick black smoke was pouring from the forest.

"I found Elizabeta!" Basch yelled, startling both Gilbert and Ludwig. He carried her over to them and set her down daintily.

"She should have a proper burial," Ludwig suggested, hefting his shovel up. He would not let himself look at Elizabeta, knowing he would be sick instantly or in tears again.

Gilbert and Basch nodded in agreement, Basch glancing at the guards. They weren't paying attention to any of them, talking to each other and laughing. One of them was even drinking from a flask. They could get away with doing a proper funeral for Elizabeta.

Basch set himself as the unofficial leader, assigning tasks to everyone. Ludwig was put in charge of digging the grave; while Gilbert made a cross out of two large branches he broke off of a tree hanging over the fence, tying them together with a bootlace taken from a corpse that still had shoes.

Basch had a few burial prayers somewhat memorized and he lined the gravesite with stones for his contribution of the work. He still didn't seem saddened by Elizabeta's death, keeping a blank face as everyone worked. Finally they folded up the flag and placed it in her arms, everyone saying their last goodbyes to the Hungarian.

"Hold up!" Gilbert shouted as they were about to lower her into the earth.

"We're not going to sit here for hours while you talk to her," Basch snapped, getting between Gilbert and the grave.

"Oh, for God's sake, I need to do something." Gilbert pushed past Basch, bending down next to the grave.

He grabbed Elizabeta's hand, carefully removing the ring given to her by Roderich so many years ago. With tears in his eyes he placed a final kiss on her forehead.

 _"Ich werde dich für immer und ewig leiben."_ He whispered, barely loud enough for everyone to hear.

 _I will love you forever and always._

Ludwig bit his lip, looking away from the two. Gilbert's last words to Elizabeta rung in his mind, almost making him sob again.

Right in front of him, less than a few steps away, a tiny patch of pink flowers, similar to the ones Elizabeta used to wear behind her ear. It was a miracle they were still growing amongst the dirt and gravel, that no one had found them and ate them yet. But standing right next to the patch was a guard, not taking part in the joking with the other guards. He was watching Ludwig and the others intently, a concerned look on his face.

The guard caught Ludwig looking at the flowers. He cocked his head a bit to the left, motioning to the flowers. Ludwig nodded slowly and pointed towards the flowers, scared of what he might do. He was probably going to stomp on them, or pick them and crush them.

The guard's eyes lit up, and he grabbed a handful of the flowers. He handed them to Ludwig, a compassionate look on his face.

"Sorry for your loss," He said in broken English, his Polish accent heavy.

"Thank you." Ludwig looked down at the pink flowers in his hands, then back up at the soldier. He bore a thin smile, brown eyes full of sympathy.

Ludwig brought the pink blossoms over to Gilbert, who snatched them out of Ludwig's hands. His red eyes still were full of hatred for his brother, mouth curled into a sort of snarl. Ludwig glared back with equal animosity, until the Prussian turned away from him. Gilbert placed three flowers behind Elizabeta's ear, and the rest in her hands.

Finally, she was placed into her grave.

Once it was filled, Basch tried to the best of his ability to bless the site. Ludwig and Gilbert stood beside him, Gilbert not even bothering to hide his tears anymore.

"May I see?" The guard that had given Ludwig the flowers plucked the homemade cross from the ground. He pulled out his knife from the loop on his belt, holding it to the cross. "What is name?"

"Elizabeta," Gilbert answered. "E-l-i-z-a-b-e-t-a."

The solider carefully carved each letter into the branch. He added the date to the top, and then handed to cross back to Gilbert.

"Thank you so much."

"I tried to make it nice," The soldier nodded. "Best I could do."

"It's very good." Ludwig assured him.

Gilbert placed the cross back in its spot, making sure it stood straight. He spent a few moments staring blankly at the upturned dirt, his face splotched with red from crying.

"Here lies Elizabeta Héderváry," Basch sniffed, suddenly seeming distraught over Elizabeta. "The country of Hungary, Wife of Roderich Edelstein. She was what kept our mismatched family together, and God only hopes we can do it ourselves from here on out."

Gilbert stood next to Basch, his eyes empty. Basch took a shaky breath, gazing down at the grave. He too had tears running down his cheek, biting his lip and trying not to melt.

"May she never be forgotten." He finished with a strangled sob.

"She won't be," Gilbert mumbled, looking up at Basch. "Not as long as I'm alive."

* * *

 **A/N: Finally got this out of the way. It took me almost a week to revise. I just can't write death all that well. Oh, the curse of being a happy writer!  
**

 **On a side note, I'm almost caught up with where the first version was. One more chapter...  
**

 **Also, I meant no offense to anybody about Hungary's flag being thrown in the dirt. I wanted to say that before someone got offended or anything like that. I love Hungary! I would stay there for eternity if I could, but alas, Kansas has me in its hold for a while longer.  
**

 **Please review so I know if you guys are liking this or not. I'm honestly stumped. I can't read minds! Most of the time I don't even know what I'm thinking!**

 **See you next chapter!**


	10. Clean and Bright

**Just a little note to clear up any confusion that from now on, any bit of the story separated by a line and in italics will be Ludwig's dreams. So, without further ado, Chapter Ten: Clean and Bright.**

* * *

By nightfall they had finished all the burials. It was depressing to see how many people were dead, and even more so knowing more people were dying for pointless reasons. Several times throughout the day new carcasses were dumped carelessly on the dwindling pile, just adding another hole to dig.

The worst part was half of the dead weren't even prisoners. Ludwig buried four young children, two elderly men, and countless women. None of them were prisoners; they all appeared to be normal citizens. But each of them had an identical bullet hole in their forehead. The first time he saw the children lying among the weaken soldiers it made him violently sick. Ludwig could barely stomach grown men, but the kids struck something inside of him.

After everyone was buried in their shallow graves the guards led them back to the main part of the camp, still laughing and joking. They didn't seem to be bothered that people were dying as they laughed; they look liked they enjoyed the death and destruction. It made Ludwig wonder what Feliks and the Baltics had been telling them. They seemed to put a lot of faith in the four countries, willing to do anything if they were ordered to.

"In!" One of the guards shouted, pointing towards the door of a dull grey building. The older prisoners enthusiastically obliged, meaning the building could only hold one thing.

Food.

It felt childish for Ludwig to get this wound up about eating, but his last meal had been sometime during the march yesterday. He was practically smiling as he grabbed his bowl and got in the long line.

When he finally got to the front he eagerly held out his bowl. Ludwig quickly found dinner for the night could hardly be called that. A bowl of some unknown soup, a slice of hard bread, and water. Still, it felt good to sit down and eat after digging graves all day.

"Comrades!" Ivan yelled. He was dragging Roderich behind him, balancing a bowl and a slice of bread in his free hand. Yao walked beside him, carrying the rest of their food. He was trying to tell Ivan to slow down, but Ivan ignored him.

Ivan came and sat down in front of them, giving Roderich his food while Yao kept two bowls to himself.

"Don't you need to eat?" Ludwig asked, motioning towards Yao.

"No. Yao needs more food than me. I'm big, I'll be fine. Besides, Feliks usually makes me something for lunch. But Yao is precious; I don't want him to be weak." Ivan explained.

"I only do it so you don't nag me, aru," Yao huffed, rolling his eyes.

The two of them began arguing with each other, much like an old married couple. It was mostly back and forth about how Ivan needed to eat, Yao getting quite upset over nothing. Ivan tried to get him to calm down, blushing and stammering.

"Did you bury her?"

Ludwig had almost forgotten about Roderich. He was looking up at Gilbert, his eyes red rimmed from crying. The Austrian looked frail, like if someone barely touched him he would break into pieces.

"Yeah. It looks real nice. Basch said a couple prayers and everything," Gilbert gave him a smile that Ludwig could tell was faked. "I saved this for you."

He pulled the wedding ring out of his pocket, placing it in Roderich's bandaged hand and folding the Austrian's thin fingers over it.

"You should keep it," Roderich sighed, turning the ring over. He handed it back to Gilbert.

"But it's yours," Gilbert said through clenched teeth, shoving it into Roderich's hand again.

"But she loved _you_." Roderich glared at him, the cracked glass of his left lens forming a spider web over his eye.

"I saved it for _you_."

"I'd rather give it to the person she loved the most!"

"For God's sake Roderich, you were married to her!" Gilbert snapped, slamming his hand on the table. He grabbed Roderich's right hand and jammed the ring forcefully on his index finger.

Roderich calmly removed the ring, digging through a large bag Ivan had sitting next to him. He pulled out a boot lace and strung the ring on it. With shaking hands he tied the lace into a necklace and slipped it over his head, tucking the ring under his shirt.

"There," Roderich pushed up his glasses. "Are you happy now?"

"Very," Gilbert replied. "Now all you have to do is eat."

Roderich sighed, holding his head. "I'm not hungry."

"Yes you are," Gilbert added.

"No, quite frankly, I'm not!"

Yao rolled his eyes, motioning towards the two with his thumb. "Are they always like this? I thought he was annoying without Gilbert."

"You should see them when money's involved," Ludwig said. "It's about four times worse."

"Oh, right!" Ivan looked up, ignoring Gilbert and Roderich's fighting. "Feliks gave me some of your things back today." He grabbed the bag, searching through it.

"This fast?" Yao exclaimed, peering into the bag.

"Really fast for Feliks. But I think Raivis was helping him," Ivan answered. "This is all he gave me."

He placed a tiny pile of things on the table. Gilbert's diary and pen, Ludwig's Iron Cross necklace, and a large heart shaped locket.

"Of all the things I had on me, he gave _this_ back?" Basch snatched up the locket, opening it carefully. A tiny picture of Lilli floated out, and he quickly snatched it up and put it back in place. Basch snapped the metal heart closed, shooting Ivan a dirty look when he caught the Russian staring.

Ludwig picked up his Iron Cross, turning it over. There on the back, three simple letters engraved into it.

H.R.E.

He had always wondered why Gilbert had chosen those letters to be inscribed on the back. Did they stand for something? Or were they someone's name? For all Ludwig knew, it could've been some joke of Gilbert's.

"If you won't do it yourself, then I'll have to do it for you!" Gilbert announced, tearing off a piece of bread and attempting to feed Roderich.

"I'll eat if you stop touching me with your dirty hands!" Roderich slapped his hand away, violet eyes ablaze once again.

"I'm glad you see it my way." Gilbert nodded approvingly. Without another word to him, he grabbed his diary and began writing.

"Roderich, what was your assignment?" Ivan said after an awkward pause, looking over at the irritated Austrian.

"Toris had me clean cells under his supervision. Every time we came to a different cell, he asked me if I knew anything about the prisoner's wife. Then he would ask if the wives were secretly in love with someone else, maybe even the enemy. How that…that _bastard_ found out about the whole ordeal is beyond me."

"Not to be rude or anything," Basch said. "But even if the cells weren't bugged, I still think everyone could hear you two last night. I'm pretty sure the whole camp knows what happened."

Roderich opened his mouth to snap something back at Basch, but Ivan quickly stood up. "It has been a pleasure talking with you, but I have to go and do more deliveries."

"Is that your assignment?" Gilbert motioned to the overfilled bag. "Delivering people's stuff?"

"Sometimes. Mostly I just do work in Feliks' office, cleaning and sorting. Other times the Baltics have me do odd jobs for them. Seems like revenge for all I did to them, da?"

As he left, he rubbed Yao's head like a child, whispering something in his ear. Yao blushed a bright red, pushing Ivan away.

"Are you two…?" Gilbert tapped his pen, trying to think of the words to use. "Ah! I got it! _'Romantically involved?'_ "

"Aiya! You cannot be serious!" Yao gasped. "He just very good friend! Only one I have!"

"Then why were you blushing?" Gilbert smirked.

"That's none of your business, aru!"

"Whatever you say." Gilbert said smugly, turning back to his diary. "Although, when people have a crush on someone, they usually deny it."

The rest of the night was spent watching Gilbert and Yao yell back and forth about Ivan. But once Ivan returned, they both stopped almost instantly. Ivan was confused, looking to the two as to why they were shouting his name.

Ludwig, Basch, and Gilbert were told that since they were new here, they would have to do the laundry. Roderich handed them a mostly broken basket full of dirty uniforms, some stained with blood. They were then pointed towards a tiny shack, and with a little nudge from Ivan, they went out on their first ever laundry day.

Inside the shack were several washtubs full of dirty water. Other prisoners were washing their uniforms, laughing and snapping each other with wet shirts. It seemed all too happy to be a prisoner of war camp, people teasing and talking in a mix of languages.

If anything helped Ludwig forget about the world, it was laundry. Normally he found it as boring as it could possibly be, but now as the three of them were elbow deep in dirty water he forgot about the burials. The drowsiness from a sleepless night faded away as he wrung out the uniforms, putting them back in the basket to be hung up.

When they returned, Ivan hung them from the rafters in the cell house. He was the only one tall enough to reach, and even he had to jump to drape them over the wooden planks. Ivan too enjoyed snapping them with the wet clothes when no one was watching him. Gilbert got in on the act too, whipping Ludwig several times and attempting to strangle him with a shirt. This caused much more yelling between the two, eventually ending when Basch pulled them apart and ordered them to different corners of the cell block. Reluctantly the brothers followed orders, but not without a few more insults being shouted to each other.

By the time everything was hung up and they all had been snapped numerous times, it was dark outside. Ivan and Yao showed the three new ones to the showers, giving Roderich some time to be alone.

The showers had only one temperature, cold. But it was much better than no shower.

Ludwig ran his fingers through his hair, trying to get at least some of the newly accumulated dirt and sweat out. The bath he took yesterday seemed like thousands of years ago, with the amount of mud now covering him.

When he was finally done washing the dirt and sweat off of him, Ludwig put on his uniform, tying the shirt around his waist like Ivan and Yao did. The night was suddenly freezing as they walked back to the cell house, the cold winds turning the camp into something more terrifying than it already was. It looked like a ghost town, the fenced in land void of any people. The only signs of life were the dim lights that glowed in the barred off windows and the occasional voices in diverse languages.

"Hey, Roderich?" Ivan called as they entered the cell house.

"What?"

"Nothing," Ivan yawned. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Since when have you started caring about my wellbeing?" Roderich asked, stepping out of his cell. "What, you'd think I'd do something rash?"

Ivan didn't answer, disappearing into his cell.

"It's rather rude to ignore me like that." Roderich said with a hint of arrogance. He was starting to sound normal again, not empty and heartbroken.

Again, no response from the Russian.

"Well, goodnight to you too," Roderich snapped, turning back into the darkness of his cell.

Ludwig walked into his cell, collapsing onto the cot. He quickly remembered how tired he was, pulling his thin blanket close to try and find some warmth.

He was asleep long before Toris came and locked up the cells, the song " _Edelweiss_ " ringing in his head.

 _Edelweiss, Edelweiss_  
 _Every morning you greet me_  
 _Small and white, clean and bright_  
 _You look happy to meet me..._

* * *

 _Ludwig awoke in the middle of a meadow, surrounded by small white flowers. The girl lay beside him, still asleep. She wore a crown of the daisy-like flowers, clutching a few in her hands. She looked so peaceful, a tiny smile on her face as she snored softly._

 _"Hey, Luddy, you awake?" Gilbert called, leaning over Ludwig. He too was wearing a crown of flowers like the girl's, the white flowers blending into his pale hair._

 _"Now I am, thanks to you!" The boy laughed, pushing his brother away. He sat up, turning to face him._

 _"She still asleep?" Gilbert pointed towards the sleeping girl. "God, I swear that kid could sleep through a battle."_

 _"Unless of course, there was pasta being served," Ludwig added, glancing back towards the girl. Her reddish brown hair framed her face, the stray curl drifting gently in the wind. He couldn't help but stare at her. She was so beautiful to the boy._

 _Gilbert smacked him upside the head, ignoring the boy's protests. "Will you stop looking at her like the prissy brat looks at Elizabeta? Face it, you're in love. The only difference between you and Roderich is Roderich has the courage to talk to Elizabeta."_

 _"I have the courage! You can't talk to Elizabeta either." Ludwig pushed his older brother, who then hit Ludwig upside the head. Soon they were punching each other and shouting, trying to make the other give in. Ludwig jumped at Gilbert, knocking him to the ground. He held his brother there for a moment, surprised he actually could hold him down._

 _"Fine, you win. But you're still a weak little baby!" Gilbert taunted, shoving Ludwig off of him._

 _"Am not!"_

 _"Speaking of weak little babies, you want to go spy on Roderich?" Gilbert smirked, pointing towards a hill._

 _"What about her?" Ludwig motioned to the girl, who was somehow still asleep after their brotherly fight._

 _"She'll be fine. Now come on, Roderich's been alone for quite some time. He might be dying from all this time in the sunlight!"_

 _Ludwig looked back at the girl. She'd be terrified if she woke up and there was no one around. Then again, they would only be gone for a short time. Surely she wouldn't wake up in that time. So Ludwig got up and followed his brother, albeit reluctantly, to the crest of the hill. Gilbert motioned for Ludwig to lay down flat on his stomach. Ever so carefully, they peeked over the top of the hill._

 _Down at the foot of the hill, Roderich and Elizabeta were laying down in the field, holding hands and talking. A basket sat next to Roderich, holding a half empty bottle of wine and two glasses. Elizabeta started laughing about something, giving Roderich a playful shove. The Austrian pushed her back, and the two were locked in a battle. Elizabeta easily pinned him down, mocking Roderich. He stopped trying to squirm out of her hold and admitted defeat. Just when Elizabeta was about to let him go, Roderich pushed her off of him and held her to the ground._

 _"You lying bastard!" Elizabeta laughed._

 _"Admit it, you lost and I won."_

 _"Oh, please," Elizabeta started. "You just did some dirty trick. That's not really winning."_

 _"Then will this make me win?" Roderich said, leaning in close to Elizabeta._

 _Gilbert gasped and put his hand over Ludwig's eyes. The boy clawed at Gilbert's hand, trying to peek through the cracks in his brother's fingers._

 _"You can't see this. It's not for little kids," Gilbert hissed._

 _"I'm not little."_

 _"Yes you are!"_

 _"No, I'm not!" Ludwig finally removed his hand, sticking out his tongue at Gilbert. The Prussian pulled Ludwig's hat down over his eyes, trying to keep the protesting boy quiet._

 _"Hey! What are you doing?" The girl shouted._

 _The two brothers turned around, Ludwig pushing his hat back up. The girl was running up the hillside, calling out to them at top volume._

 _"Shh!" Gilbert lifted a finger to his mouth, waving the girl over. She nodded, coming over to his side._

 _"What is Mr. Aust –" She started, until Gilbert clamped a hand over her mouth._

 _"You have to be absolutely quiet." Gilbert whispered._

 _"Mhmm."_

 _Slowly Gilbert removed his hand, testing to see if the girl would start talking again. She kept her mouth closed, looking back over at Roderich and Elizabeta. The two were locked in a passionate kiss, holding each other close. Elizabeta ran her hand down Roderich's back, pulling him closer._

 _"That's disgusting," Ludwig whispered, glancing at the girl._

 _"I think it's romantic. Mr. Austria and Ms. Hungary are cute together," She added, a slight blush tinging her cheeks. "But Mr. Prussia, should we really be watching them?"_

 _"No, we really shouldn't. So, let's put an end to it," Gilbert gave the two a mischievous grin, his rosy eyes sparkling. "Ready?"_

 _Ludwig and the girl nodded._

 _"Alright." Gilbert cleared his throat, cupping his hands around his mouth. "Hey, Austria, that's quite a nice mouth you got there! Too bad only Hungary is enjoying it right now!"_

 _Roderich's head shot up, his face entirely red. His white shirt was partially unbuttoned, exposing his bare chest. "I-I-I – Gilbert, you_ bastard _! Why aren't you watching the kids?!" He stammered, grabbing a fistful of the white flowers. Elizabeta was bright red too, hiding her face with her hands._

 _"The two brats are right here with me." Ludwig and the girl sat up and waved, laughing at the two. "Be careful Roddy, you don't want to ruin your precious edelweisses!"_

 _"Edelweiss?" Ludwig echoed. They must be the flowers in the field around them. There was something about that name._

 _Suddenly he remembered. The memory hit him like a brick, everything coming back to him._

 _"Toris was singing that today! When Elizabeta was…" He gasped, clapping a hand over his mouth._

 _Gilbert turned to his brother, looking quite confused. "What the hell are you talking about?"_

 _"No, this isn't real!" Ludwig clutched his head, his eyes darting from Roderich and Elizabeta to Gilbert. "This is just a dream! I'm really at Bolesność right now, and I'm an adult. I just watched Elizabeta die today. Okay, so this is definitely a dream."_

 _"Ludwig? What's wrong?" The girl asked, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder._

 _"You! That's it! I've never seen you before! Or have I? Please, tell me your name!" He grabbed the girl, looking into her amber eyes. They seemed all too familiar, as if he'd known this mysterious girl forever._

 _"What are you doing?" The girl pulled herself out of his grip, backing away towards Gilbert._

 _"Just tell me your name!"_

 _"Ludwig, you're scaring her! Stop it!" Roderich shouted, running up the hill._

 _"Why doesn't anyone use her name?! For God's sake, I just need_ your name! _" He screamed, grabbing for the girl. She shrunk back into Gilbert's cape, pulling the red fabric around her._

 _The girl began to cry, tucking herself into Gilbert's arms. "S-s-s-stop it, please!"_

 _"Her name is…, Ludwig! Now calm down!" Roderich grabbed Ludwig by the collar, his lilac eyes full of fury._

 _"I didn't hear you! Repeat it!"_

 _"It's…you insane little imp!" Gilbert roared. His voice faded away when he said her name, like Ludwig momentarily went deaf and then his hearing returned._

 _"Why can't I hear it? Why can't I?!" Ludwig pulled Roderich's hand off of his collar, grabbing a fistful of his blond hair. He looked down at the flowers of snow, trying to make sense of it all. In front of him he saw Roderich's shadow, watching the black shape raise a hand over his head. And before he could react, the Austrian's hand collided with his head and the world fell apart like broken glass._

* * *

 **A/N: Ha, sneaking some AusHun in this. There was no way that wasn't making its way into the final version.**

 **I really like writing all of the memories for Ludwig. They're almost more fun than writing the real story.**

 **Also, if you haven't already noticed, I have a huge love for _The Sound of_ _Music._ And my favorite song happens to be _Edelweiss_ , so I was going to jam that in there. If you haven't seen the movie and you have around three hours to spare, you should! It tells a beautiful story, but the film is very long. **

**I would like to take a moment to thank** thinkitover, GandalfsTruth, **and the guest reviewer** FlamingFyre. **You guys made my day! I always have to smile whenever someone new is following or there's the rare review. Can you please try not to make them so elusive?**

 **See you next chapter!**


	11. Initiations Come Along With Fear

"It's initiation day!" Roderich shouted at the top of his lungs the some morning around a week later after Toris left. He was the leader of the group, the person who would be known as the _kapo_ in Germany. Toris called him the _prižiūrėtojas_ , or overseer. Basch called him the bitch, Gilbert called him the douchebag, and Ivan called him the brat. Whatever name he was given, he was still the one in charge when one of the Baltics or Feliks wasn't there and everyone resented it.

"Initiation day!" Ivan echoed, clapping his hands. "And just in time too. They just put up new ones yesterday."

"What's initiation day?" Gilbert asked, pulling on his shoes.

"Well, we're a pretty elite group here…" Roderich started. "Ivan really invented the whole thing. It's sort of an acceptance ceremony into our ranks. We all take care of each other here. But if you fail, we ignore you. You pass, welcome to the group."

"It was supposed to take place the day after you came here, but you-know-what happened," Ivan added.

"Don't say it!" Roderich covered his ears with his hands, glaring at Ivan. "Anyway, meet us at the flagpoles after dinner. It'll start then." He left the cell block, going off to roll call.

Ludwig was stuck building new barracks, separated from everyone he knew. That is, until he found Antonio and Lovino. The Spaniard was trying to make the guards smile as he worked, openly laughing and making jokes at his own expense. Lovino carried on working like he didn't know Antonio, ignoring anything that was said to him. Ludwig was wondering why no one had smashed Antonio's skull in already, considering he was doing more laughing than working.

" _Hola_ , Ludwig!" He called, waving at the German. Lovino glanced up, his green eyes narrowing.

"And good morning to you too, Antonio." Ludwig couldn't help but give him a tiny smile. After all, happiness was infectious when you rarely found it.

"So, what's going on with you? I haven't seen you in such a long time! Me and Lovino are so far away from everyone, and the guards don't want us to talk to you. Don't know why, though. Did Feliks make you sign that contract thing yet?" Antonio was getting rather enthusiastic as he spoke, his grin even bigger than before.

"Yes, we signed the contract," Ludwig yawned, holding up one of the planks for Lovino to nail in. The Italian frowned at Ludwig, but managed to nail in the board without beating Ludwig's hand into a pulp. "Did either of you get the radium treatment?"

"That's what that stuff is? No, we didn't get it. Lovino was about to, until he saw the needle. He's always been scared of those, ever since –"

"Shut up!" Lovino hissed, giving the Spaniard a swift kick in the shin. Antonio yelped, grabbing his now wounded leg.

 _"Romano!"_ Antonio scolded. "You do _not_ do that to people! Didn't we go over this?"

"Don't call me Romano. If you absolutely _have_ to call me by my country name," Lovino pointed his hammer that he was using at Antonio accusingly. "Call me South Italy."

"But you always let me call you Romano," Antonio pouted, sticking out his bottom lip.

"See what I have to put up with?" Lovino sighed, turning to Ludwig. "I'd rather be stuck with you potato bastards than with him."

"No you wouldn't. You love me more than you care to admit," Antonio mumbled.

"I'm going to ignore that and continue working like a good prisoner should, _idiota._ "

"So, pardon the profanities, but why the hell are you here, Antonio? Weren't you an ally of the Empire?" Ludwig asked, glancing at the Spanish man.

"I was. That is, until they attacked Italy. We agreed to help each other on certain terms. They asked for me to supply them with soldiers and weapons and in return they would keep Italy safe. But they broke their end of the promise, so we were left with no choice but to attack. I sort of got captured, though." Antonio rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "So, there's my story. Lovino won't tell me his, so I can't give you any details about him."

The three of them spent the rest of the day working on adding a long wall to the shell of a building. Antonio kept their spirits up, making jokes and singing the whole time. Lovino pretended like he was irritated with Antonio, but Ludwig caught him a handful of times looking over at the Spaniard and smiling or silently singing along to the songs.

"The sun's finally gone!" Antonio cheered, pointing to the fading pink line on the horizon. "We can stop working soon."

In just a few minutes, they were told they could stop and could go eat dinner. Lovino threw the hammer into the dirt, marching away from the two. Antonio called after him, gave Ludwig a small apology, and then ran after the Italian. Once again Ludwig was alone, a feeling he was learning to dread. It often led to him allowing his mind to wander to the strange girl in his dreams. He was still confused about who she could be. Perhaps she was someone who died long ago and was trying to reach out to him. Or maybe it was just a stranger who caught his subconscious attention. Whatever it was, it was starting to drive Ludwig insane.

* * *

"Alright!" Roderich announced, leaning up against one of the four flag poles. "Here's how things are going to work out. You all will have around five minutes to retrieve the flag you are assigned. The guards are changing shifts right now, so there isn't that to worry about. However, that's only the beginning. Once you have the flag you have to take it back to the cells without getting caught. You can use any means to hide it, but it has to be back by the time Toris comes to lock everyone up. Any questions?"

Gilbert raised his hand in the air. "Can we stop wasting time and start already?"

"Fine. Ludwig, you have the Lithuanian flag, Basch has the Latvian, and Gilbert has the Estonian. Oh, and I forgot to mention that the punishment for stealing the flags is a firing squad in front of everyone at roll call. So, have at it!" Roderich gestured to the flag poles, then went over with Yao and Ivan. The three of them left for the cell house, making quiet bets on who would come in first.

Getting the flags down was the easy part. All the skill you needed was the ability to untie a rope and pull the flag down so you could unhook it. Ludwig easily removed the flag from its clasps and retied the ropes. In just a minute, the only flag still flying was the Polish one. Only now did Ludwig realize he was stuck with the task of figuring out how to hide it. He could just bolt for the cells, but by now there were guards stationed at the entrances. You couldn't just saunter in with a giant flag draped over your shoulder. The size was rather inconvenient, as it didn't allow many choices for hiding.

"I would start moving!" Ivan called back at them, motioning with his thumb towards the guards that were coming to their posts.

Ludwig looked over at Gilbert, who was tying the Estonian flag around his neck like a scarf. He looked over at his younger brother and tossed his makeshift scarf over his shoulder. With a rebellious gleam in his eye, he marched proudly away in the direction of the cells. Basch was already gone, probably having snuck off to the cells quietly. Now Ludwig was starting to get worried. He still had no idea where to hide a giant flag, never mind getting it back to the cell block. Getting quite frustrated with himself and his lack of creativity, Ludwig ducked behind a building out of the sight of the guards. He tore off his shirt, wrapping the flag around his torso. Sure, it wasn't imaginative, but it was going to work. After pulling on his shirt and checking there weren't any odd things sticking out, Ludwig made a quick check for any guards and half ran half walked back to the cells.

His older brother was standing outside of the doorway, arguing with a soldier. The soldier had a fistful of his "scarf," and was glaring at Gilbert with the hostility of a watch dog. "You _obviously_ have no sense of fashion! I mean, this is a designer scarf." The Prussian huffed, tearing the flag from the man's hands.

"And where would you get a ' _designer'_ scarf that happens to look like the Estonian flag?"

"Estonian flag?" Gilbert echoed, pretending like he'd never heard the word before. "What the hell is an Estonian?"

"Ha, ha. Very funny. So funny, in fact, I'm sure von Bock will be pleased to hear about this." The guard put a hand on his rifle strap, a sick smile splitting his face.

"Leave the nerd out of this," Gilbert said, taking a wary step back.

"Why don't you just admit that you stole the flag? That way you can die with a clear conscious," he growled.

"Never." Gilbert stuck his nose up in the air, crossing his arms. "You just don't understand fashion."

The guard was getting very irritated with the albino, made painfully obvious by how red his face was. He tore off his rifle, shoving it into Gilbert's chest. His finger was on the trigger, prepared to shoot. Out of instinct, Ludwig bolted forward and tackled the guard. He hardly registered what he just did until he found himself with a knife at his throat.

"I'm giving you one chance to _get off of me_!" he snarled, pressing the knife into Ludwig's neck. A trickle of warm blood started from the small cut, but it was enough to startle the burly German.

Ludwig instantly got up, putting a hand to his neck. Gilbert grabbed him and pulled him close, his eyes darting nervously from the guard getting to his feet to the cut on his brother's throat. Both of them were too stunned to speak, just looking at each other and blinking.

"Both of you, with me," the guard spat, pointing a gloved hand to the forest behind camp.

* * *

Toris paced back and forth in front of the three of them, while Eduard merely glared at Gilbert. Several times Toris opened his mouth as if to start a rant, but then stopped. Finally Eduard spoke up, breaking the uncomfortable quiet.

"Can I have my flag back?" he asked, holding out his hand. Gilbert reluctantly took off his scarf of sorts, putting it in Eduard's outstretched hand. The Estonian muttered a thank you, or perhaps it was a curse.

"Okay, I think I've got it now," Toris said, turning to face all three of them. "So, you attempted to slit Ludwig's throat because he tackled you. And he tackled you because he felt his brother was being threatened. Now, where does the flag fall into this?"

"The white haired one was wearing it around his neck, sir."

"Well, yes, I think we established that. Honestly, the three of you haven't been here for more than a week and you're already causing trouble." Toris pinched the bridge of his nose, looking over to Eduard for support. Eduard groaned, stepping forward to his brother's side.

"Let's make this short and sweet. Sergeant Kaczka, please don't kill people unless ordered to. Ludwig, please try to contain your anger. Gilbert, please don't take the flags down anymore. There, simple as that," Eduard huffed.

"That's not how you punish someone." The Lithuanian gave Eduard a gentle nudge. "Why don't you go upstairs?"

"Who put you in charge? Last I checked Feliks was still the ringleader of this bloody circus. And I wasn't going to let them get away without punishment! If you don't tell them upfront, then it'll be more painful."

"Of course you were. Now, go upstairs," Toris said in a low voice, along with something Ludwig couldn't understand.

Eduard backed away from Toris, his blue green eyes bursting with anger. "Fine, I'll go. See you tomorrow, _Ivan._ " He drew out the last word as he walked out of the room, laughing to himself.

"Don't you _dare_ call me _that_ name again!" Toris roared.

"Sorry, mom! Or should I say, Ivan?" Eduard howled with laughter, stomping up the stairs. He shouted something in Estonian, and then slammed his door.

" _Kaip aš kada nors taikstytis su šiomis idiotai?"_ Toris muttered, pulling out his ponytail. "Anyway, Sergeant Kaczka and Ludwig may return to whatever they were doing. Gilbert, you stay here. And Ludwig, don't think you're free from punishment." Toris waved them off, grabbing Gilbert's sleeve to make sure he didn't run away with them.

Ever so slowly, Ludwig walked out of the building. The guard brushed past him, barking a few things in Polish. Ludwig shot back with a few of his own insults in German, to which the guard flicked his knife out of his belt loop and held it up for him to see. Then he slid the knife back in its place and stormed away on the worn path back to Bolesność.

"Hey, Ludwig!"

At the sound of his name, the German turned to find Eduard leaning out of his bedroom window. He was holding the flag in one hand and a pistol in the other.

"Here, take this. It's for your ritual, right?" He tossed the striped fabric at Ludwig. "Don't let Toris know I did that."

"Right. Thank you, Eduard," he said, puzzled. Wasn't he supposed to be in trouble for taking the flag?

"No trouble. Just don't do that again, okay? Tackling the guards, I mean. I would hate to have to actually punish you." Eduard waved goodbye with the pistol, shutting his window.

Now Ludwig was more confused than ever.

* * *

"Very good," Roderich said, taking the Lithuanian and Estonian flag from Ludwig's hands. "But where's Gilbert?"

"He's in the office right now. Toris kept him for punishment," Ludwig explained, sitting down on his cot.

"So does that count, then?" Roderich asked Ivan.

"The rules are that you have to get your flag back by any means. And giving it to your brother is a mean."

"But the rules also say you can't be caught," Yao added.

"True. But this is a special circumstance. So, seeing as I am the one who came up with the whole idea, I say that Gilbert is accepted," Ivan said with the tone of ' _my word is final and you can't argue.'_ He eased himself onto his cot, holding his left leg up to his chest. The man appeared to suddenly be in an immense amount of pain, biting into his lower lip.

"Did you change the bandages recently?" Yao asked, putting one of his small hands on Ivan's massive paws.

"I'm fine. It's just acting up, that's all."

"Ivan, you're almost in tears."

"I said I was fine. You believe me, da?" Ivan snarled, but all of his intimidation was gone.

"Answer my question."

"What do you define as recently?" Ivan whimpered.

"Aiya! How do I ever put up with you? Here, let me see." Yao fished something out from Ivan's bag, pulling the Russian's hands away from his leg. Gently as to not put him in any more agony, Yao pulled up Ivan's pant leg to his knee. His entire calf was wrapped in filthy bandages with a dried brownish red stain on the left side. Yao began the delicate process of removing the bandages, stopping every time Ivan moaned or flinched.

When they were all finally removed, Ivan had told Yao to stop at least seven times, threated the poor man around fifteen, and nearly cried twice. Roderich was paying no attention to any of this; instead he was talking in a hushed voice to someone no one could see.

"Stop being such a baby." Yao sighed, stretching Ivan's leg straight. This caused more screaming and protests, which the Chinese ignored completely.

Ludwig was quite curious as to what could make Ivan act like he was dying from anguish. He slowly got up and went over to their cell, watching Yao examine Ivan's leg carefully.

"Did you come to help me, aru?" Yao glanced up at Ludwig, raising an eyebrow.

"If you need help."

"Right. Here, put this in his mouth so he doesn't bite his tongue like last time." He handed Ludwig a folded up scrap of cloth.

"No, I don't need it," Ivan snapped, crossing his arms.

"You want two wounds to deal with? Ludwig, just go ahead and put it in his mouth. He'll thank you later."

Ludwig did as he was told, then returned to Yao's side. Only now could he clearly see the wound that was causing so much pain for the Russian.

The affected area was only about the size of Ludwig's hand, but it was much worse than he thought. It looked like Ivan had stuck his leg in a fire for a good ten minutes, and then tried to heal the burn by gouging out the burnt skin with a spoon. Thankfully it seemed to have healed a bit since whenever it happened, but the wound was far from gone. The meat of his leg was exposed; the surrounding skin looked scaly and was caked with dried blood. How Ivan managed to walk and work with this was a mystery to Ludwig, but he definitely deserved more credit than he got.

"I need you to hold him down." Yao ordered, grabbing a half used roll of bandages from the bag.

"What….what happened?" Ludwig's voice was shaky as he spoke, pressing down on Ivan's shoulders.

"You know bomb stupid Americans drop? That doesn't just affect the land. Japan was the same way after…" Yao fell short. "It hurts the countries," he said, his voice barely audible. "It's the pains of their people and their land. This is minor compared to what Kiku had. But Ivan didn't do anything to provoke this…"

"Sorry, I don't mean to bring up any sore memories," Ludwig apologized.

"It's fine. Not your fault. Now, Roderich, would you go get me a wet washrag?"

"Ja," Roderich yawned. He grabbed a torn scrap of uniform from where they had been hung to dry and left. The Austrian reappeared a few minutes later, handing the sopping wet rag to Yao.

"Please tell me I don't have to help again." He shuddered, looking away from Ivan.

Yao tore the rag out of his hand, shoving him away. "I'm glad your littlest brother isn't such a pansy." He shook his head, looking over to Ludwig. "I'm going to start cleaning now. He'll try screaming and begging for you to stop, but don't listen. Just hold him down so we can get this over with faster, alright?"

Ludwig nodded, and then Yao said a quick apology to Ivan and started to wipe softly at his wound.

Ivan instantly began to scream, trying to break free from Ludwig's hold. The German felt like a monster for holding him down, but it had to be done. Russian and Mandarin pleas slurred together until they didn't sound like their original language anymore. Yao was shouting apologies, looking like every cry hurt him as much as it did Ivan.

 _"_ Yao _…_ don't do this _…_ to me!Aren't you _…my…friend?!"_ He managed to say between screams.

"I'm sorry! Please, forgive me!" The Chinese man howled, flinching as Ivan cried out again.

" _Lies!_ That's all…anyone ever does! Lies, lies, _lies!"_ The Russian stopped begging for mercy like a scared boy and was now channeling his pain through anger.

He grabbed for Ludwig's throat, fingers twitching madly. A terrified Ludwig managed to get the man's hands held down, but not without a few claws at his chest from Ivan. His already cruel indigo eyes were alight with a new emotion – a combination of malice and bloodlust. Was this what the Baltics had seen when they lived with the madman? It was a look that could strike fear into the heart of any living being, and that's exactly what it was doing to Ludwig right now. He'd never accredited the Baltics for sharing a house with a man who should be locked up in a mental asylum.

"I think…it's in your…best interest to…let me go…da? You wouldn't want…to see what…happens if you don't," he spat, still struggling against Ludwig's hold. Now Ludwig was really terrified, trying to hold a homicidal man that could overpower him down.

"Hold on, we're almost done," Yao said, but Ludwig barely recognized his voice. He couldn't look away from Ivan, specifically his eyes. It was like he was being hypnotized, forced to focus on the blazing lavender eyes.

"I would…love to paint these…walls. It's so dull. My favorite color…is red. You know what else…is red…and is like paint? _Your blood._ It…would definitely be…very pretty. And every day I…could be reminded of…your suffering." Ivan somehow pulled off his signature childlike grin although he was on the verge of tears.

"Okay, we're good. When you release him, you'll want to run," Yao sighed, slowly backing away from the cot.

"Yes, do as he says. Let me go so I can rip you open," Ivan smirked, sending a chill down Ludwig's spine.

As fast as was humanly possible, Ludwig let go of Ivan and ran out of the cell. The Russian lunged after him, but Yao caught him and eased him back down.

"Thank you, Ludwig. I'm sorry. He didn't mean anything he said." Yao stroked Ivan's hair, trying to get him to calm down.

"See why I don't help anymore?" Roderich added. "Last time the brute broke my glasses."

"He's not a brute! You would be the same way if you were in that much pain!" Yao barked, glaring at Roderich how a mother bear would glare at another animal when protecting her cubs.

"Oh yes, right, he's misunderstood. Believe me, I understand savage and that man's crazy!" Roderich laughed.

"Who's crazy?" Basch asked, appearing in the doorway of the cell house.

"Ivan." Roderich answered.

"Oh, right. Nothing new then." He sauntered into the room, carrying a higher-than-thou air about himself. "And where's Gilbert?"

"Getting tortured by Toris. He got caught with the Estonian flag." Ludwig replied, realizing his hands were shaking.

"Ha, serves the bastard right."

Roderich stood up, walking over to Basch. He carefully examined him, walking in circles around the Swiss. "And if you're so great, then where's your flag?"

Basch went into Ivan and Yao's cell and grabbed the bag. He dug around in it for some time, finally removing a large maroon and white striped flag.

"Well, Fraulein Prissy Pants, if you were paying any attention I hid it in Ivan's bag. Hell, I should've taken some stuff too, seeing as none of you noticed."

"I ought to kill you," Roderich snapped, pulling Basch into a headlock. Basch scratched at his older brother's arm, obviously not as amused as the Austrian was.

"I'll do it for you!" Ivan offered loudly, his voice still laced with anger.

* * *

 **A/N: Scary Ivan is a fun Ivan. Sorry if he seems a bit out of character, I was trying my best to emulate how I feel he would be back in the old U.S.S.R. You know, absolutely terrifying.  
**

 **Once again, I apologize for uploading a bit late. I was in the hospital Friday, Saturday we went out to eat with my family, and today we had to get Christmas pictures done. I'm so behind it's not even funny. And every time I try to write, _Hogan's Heroes_ comes on and I stop whatever I'm doing. But hey, we're now farther than the original version was.**

 **Shout out to** LeShadowAce **and** StealthySparkles _,_ **I think those two are the only new followers. Thank you so much!  
**

 **Translation note:** ** _Kaip aš kada nors taikstytis su šiomis idiotai? -_ How do I ever put up with these idiots? _  
_**

 **Also, Kazcka means duck.**

 **See you next chapter!**


	12. The Timid Demon

**A/N: I would just like to warn everyone that there is some sort of descriptive violence in this chapter. Nothing too heavy, but I wanted to warn you in case you're sensitive or don't like things like that.**

* * *

Gilbert came stumbling into the cell house early in the morning, trailed by Toris. He unlocked the door and pushed the Prussian inside, snickering when Gilbert slumped to the cold floor and didn't get up. Ludwig immediately went to his big brother, who didn't say anything while Ludwig put a defensive arm around him and helped him to his feet. His head lolled to the side, but he managed to stand somewhat upright. Fearing that Gilbert wouldn't be able to take the two more steps to his cot, the German picked him up and carried him to bed.

"Basch, would you please take care of him for me?" Ludwig whispered, looking over at the Swiss man. He nodded, coming over to Gilbert's side. Gilbert groaned, pushing Basch away from him.

Trying to seem like he wasn't at all afraid of what lay before him tonight, Ludwig turned to face the Lithuanian waiting in the doorway. He gave Ludwig a demonic grin, motioning for him to come forward.

"Yah ready?" He asked. Even though it was dark in the cells, Toris' green eyes twinkled with interest. He was excited to beat two people senseless in one night, and that made a shiver run down Ludwig's spine.

But without a word of protest, Ludwig followed Toris out of the cell. He looked a bit surprised that the German was coming without a struggle, but quickly pushed that aside. Toris slammed the door to the cell shut so forcefully the bars rang like chimes, startling everyone who wasn't already up awake. With yet another sick smile, he grabbed Ludwig's wrist and dragged him away.

The long walk across camp gave Ludwig time to imagine what horrors Toris was going to do to him. Obviously, he'd done something terrible to Gilbert to make him weak enough to let his younger brother help him. Gilbert almost never allowed someone to help him, claiming he was too "awesome" or that he's "just tired."

Grim images of medieval torture devices and weapons came to mind, along with the radium vials. Was Toris going to experiment on him? Surely he couldn't be that insane. They'd already discovered that it shut down nation's internal timers, what more proof did they need? But if he was destined to be the next subject, Ludwig was going to be reduced to what Elizabeta had been in a matter of days. He could almost feel the long needle sinking into his neck, and the agonizing pain that he assumed followed. And then he'd end up like Elizabeta, weak and balancing on the edge of death. Maybe he'd even end up dead.

They reached the gate to go outside of the camp, and the tired guards opened it. Toris yanked on Ludwig's arm to tell him to pick up the pace, and the two of them set off into the forest. Only then did Ludwig realize that Toris was drunk. Before he'd been too worried about Gilbert or dying to notice, but now the smell of vodka overwhelmed his senses and he could see Toris' staggering as they walked. Of course, this only made Ludwig panic more. At least when Toris was sober he had some shred of mercy left in him. But now he would be a totally different being, perhaps even crueler than before. Or what if he was interested in something other than torture? War could make a man crazy like that. Perhaps Gilbert was so weak because he'd been drugged. Did the same fate await the younger brother? Ludwig shoved those revolting imaginings out of his head, trying his best not to gag. He refused to let himself even think of those things.

Finally they came to the office, where Toris quietly opened the door and nudged Ludwig inside. All the lights were off, and Toris was trying to be as discreet as one can be when inebriated, so everyone must have been asleep. This gave Ludwig the ingenious idea that if he screamed loud enough, they would all wake up and come to his rescue. It was a beautiful plan until he realized that Toris would probably gag him. His only real chances for escape of any kind were to wake everyone up now.

"You gotta be super quiet," Toris hissed, putting a gloved hand over Ludwig's mouth. "They're all sleepin'. An' if I wake 'em up, I'm gunna be in a helluva lot of trouble, okay?"

Ludwig slowly nodded. Toris took his hand away, looking over Ludwig doubtfully. He smelled so strongly of vodka it burned the German's nose and made him want to retch.

"M'kay. So, you got two choices. One, I ship yah off to some lab or somethin' for the radioactive experiments. Two, you let me do what I have in mind. Either way ain't gunna matter to me." Toris listed off the choices on his fingers, looking back up at Ludwig.

"Why don't you do whatever you have in mind?" Ludwig answered, hoping he hadn't picked the wrong choice. He would much rather risk letting Toris tear him apart than let mad scientists do different tests on how violently radium made personified countries react.

The Lithuanian looped an arm around Ludwig's neck, ruffling his blond hair. "Atta boy! Always knew yah were a good kid. Now come on, we got some stuff to do," he whispered, leading Ludwig further away from safety.

With a long creak, Toris opened a door under the stairs. He gestured for Ludwig to enter, to which the German was hesitant. It was completely dark, giving Toris all the more chances to try something. But when he caught the bloodthirsty look in Toris' eye, he went into the shadowy stairwell.

The descent to what Ludwig assumed was the cellar was maddening. Each step was made blindly, and the click of Toris' heels close behind made him want to bolt down the stairs and hide. Ludwig was forced to take the stairs slowly, as only a few steps down Toris put his hand on Ludwig's shoulder. He knew Ludwig wanted to run away, and he wasn't going to let him.

After what seemed like an eternity, Ludwig ran out of steps. Toris got in front of him again, dragging him over to an area that looked even darker than the rest of the cellar. There was a tiny click, and an old oil lamp spread a tiny circle of light across the floor. Hanging the lamp on a hook set in the stone wall, Toris began laying out his impressive array of weapons on a long table. Several knives of varying sizes, whips, lighters, disgusting looking hooks, and even a broadsword decorated the table by the time Toris was done. All of this was only made worse by the rust coloured stains on the weapons, which Ludwig knew wasn't from old age.

"Why you being so shy? C'mon, get over here," Toris slurred, smirking at Ludwig's wide eyes.

Ludwig reluctantly came over to the Baltic country, eyeing the weapons before him. Sooner or later his blood was going to be on some of them.

"Can I see your hands?" Toris asked. When Ludwig held out his hands in preparation for something to tear open his skin, Toris simply tied them together with rope. And then he grabbed two white strips of cloth, stuffed one in Ludwig's mouth and tied the other into a gag. Checking that the knot was tight, Toris began to unbutton Ludwig's shirt.

The German instantly recoiled, backing up from Toris until his back pressed against the stone wall. He was cornered, with no way to escape. Suddenly Toris burst out laughing, clapping a hand over his mouth to muffle his howls.

"Oh, God," he gasped in between fits of laughter. "You think I'm gonna…do that? C'mon, Luddy, I ain't _that_! Unless," he added suggestively, pulling at his own shirt collar. "Yah really want to do –"

Ludwig shook his head no feverishly, keeping his back pressed against the wall.

"Okay, okay! Listen, I'm just takin' your shirt off so I can see what I'm doin'. Don't freak out." Toris walked up to Ludwig and finished unbuttoning his shirt. He tore it off of him, tossing it out of the circle of light and into the shadows.

"Now, what shall I start with?" Toris went back to the table, running his fingers over some of the blades. "So many choices…but which one 's perfect for yah? You know, Luddy, in space nobody can hear yah scream. Down here, no one can hear your begs for mercy."

He snatched up one of the whips, one with an elegantly carved handle and gold embellishments. Ever so slowly as to draw out the agony of expectation, he uncurled it. Looking back up at Ludwig, he cocked an eyebrow as a final silent question to the German. With a few flicks of his wrist he cracked the whip, testing to see if it was good enough for his standards.

And then, as Toris came over to him, Ludwig saw it. A flicker in his forest green eyes – of the old, scared Toris. The man who would never torture someone, who couldn't even think of hitting another person, was hiding behind this different version of himself. Then Ludwig realized it. Toris was _afraid_ to hit Ludwig.

But as soon as he raised the handle of the whip over his head, that fear was gone. It was swallowed whole by the drunken beast Toris was now, replacing the terror in his eyes with cruelty. He flicked his wrist, and the whip bit into Ludwig's bare chest. For a blessed second he didn't register the pain, but it came to him quickly after in a white flash. Ludwig clenched his teeth, refusing to cry out. It would be muffled anyway, but it would give Toris that little bit of satisfaction of knowing that he'd won. No way in hell was Ludwig going to hand that over to him so –

 _Crack!_

The second strike burned dramatically more than the first. It sent out a new wave of pain, spreading across Ludwig's ribcage like a wildfire. He didn't want to look down at his new wound, as he could feel the blood starting to come from the tear in his skin. Toris swiped it away with a finger, which in turn made the red mark pound even more. Ludwig was trying to keep a straight face, although he wanted to cry out desperately. _No, I am tougher than this. I've withstood thousands of things worse than this! So what if it hurts?_

 _Crack!_

Ludwig flinched, biting into the side of his cheek in a new effort to not scream. It was a miserable technique though, as soon his mouth filled with the tang of blood.

 _Crack!_

How was he ever going to keep his cries silenced at this rate? He closed his eyes, wishing Toris would just stop and come to his senses.

 _Crack!_

Hot tears threatened to start falling down his face. Ludwig blinked them back, wishing that he had any sort of defense against Toris.

Finally Toris got bored with the whip. He set it back in its respectful place on the table, picking up a short knife. Ludwig didn't notice it until the blade was pressed against his chest, as he'd been too busy trying to blink the spots from his eyes.

"Here's one for Feliks," Toris said softly, grabbing Ludwig's arm and running the knife across it. Ludwig couldn't hold back screaming any more. The Lithuanian's grin got bigger when he heard the stifled cry, and he started to laugh again.

"Honestly, I woulda thought you'd been stronger," he beamed as he tore the knife through Ludwig's other arm. "There's one for Eduard."

Another slash went across his chest for Raivis followed, and finally Toris made him turn around and cut several stripes on Ludwig's back for Lithuania and the rest of the people who suffered, whatever that meant. A few more slashes were drawn over Ludwig's bloodied torso, Toris making the pattern into a bloody spider web.

By this point Ludwig kept his head held low in a shameful effort to hide his tears from the dim light. He hated looking so weak, but the pain was stronger than he was. It made him crumple, made him want to curl up and sob for a long time. Toris lifted Ludwig's head up, holding the man's jaw firmly. The Lithuanian caught sight of the tears and smiled, wiping them away with his blood soaked black glove.

"Now, Luddy, you can't cry. Don'tcha know the rules?" Toris pressed his lips into a thin smile in mock scolding, putting his free hand on his hip.

Ludwig shook his head, trying to tear his head free from Toris' hold. He hated the way his smile taunted him, how his green eyes tore into him with arrogance. If only he could do something, anything, to piss him off. Then Ludwig could have the last laugh before getting his skull smashed to pieces.

Toris swung his leg at Ludwig's feet, making him fall to the floor. With a swift kick, he brought his boot into Ludwig's ribs with a nauseating _crack_. Ludwig doubled over as Toris kicked him again and again, and then grabbed a fistful of Ludwig's hair. He dragged him upright, holding his head up so the two's eyes met.

"I swear t' God, this s' the most fun I've had in a long time. Even Gilbert wasn't this fun!" he laughed, pressing the knife to Ludwig's throat. Gently, he ran it across the cut Ludwig got from the sergeant's knife. Warm blood trickled down from the slice, joining the disaster that covered Ludwig's chest. "An' yah know what? It'd been even better if yah were asleep."

He slammed Ludwig's head against the wall, laughing the whole time.

 _Oh, shit,_ _what's he going to do now?_ Ludwig mentally cursed as his vision blurred into a hazy mess of light and shadows. The smell of vodka still stung his nose, but now it mingled with the metallic scent of blood. His last memory was of Toris' green eyes sparkling in the dim light, the bloodied knife in hand.

* * *

 _"Good morning, Ludwig," Roderich smiled, poking his head into the boy's room. "So, how's your arm?"_

 _Ludwig looked up from his book, stunned the Austrian was even talking to him. He usually didn't care at all about Ludwig's wellbeing. Most of the time he acted like the boy didn't exist. So why was he talking to him now?_

 _"Uh, good, I guess?" Ludwig answered slowly, wondering if this was some sort of trap._

 _"Right, well, that's good." Roderich came in, shut the door and sat down on the edge of his bed, wringing his hands. He seemed at a loss for words, something that never happened with Roderich._

 _Ludwig studied the man cautiously. Was he searching for an apology of sorts? The accident wasn't Ludwig's fault. It wasn't his problem that horses hated him. But maybe he ought to apologize. After all, he was the one that said he could ride a horse when he'd only ever looked at the beautiful equines before. And he had snuck off with the girl when they were supposed to be working. The two somehow managed to saddle up one of Roderich's prized stallions and get Ludwig up on it before realizing horses don't like to be touched by young children._

 _"I'm sorry for lying to you," Ludwig started, his gaze falling on his arm. It was all wrapped up in white bandages, held in place by a sling. Sadly, being thrown from a horse was a lot more painful than the books made it out to be. "I should've –"_

 _"No, don't apologize. That's…that's what I came here to do." He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to find the words to use. "Listen, I'm sorry that I snapped at you like that. I should've handled the situation better. I overreacted." Overreacted was a very loose term. When the two ran back crying with Ludwig's left arm at an awkward angle, Roderich screamed at them for a good twenty minutes. He didn't even notice their tears, just ranted on and on about how much he hated little kids and wished that he could get rid of them. It took Gilbert and Elizabeta shouting back to get him to stop._

" _But sometimes you two drive me insane," he continued. "I've never had children before, and you two push me to the limits. I never knew how much work you are. And I know next to nothing about what to do with a broken arm. So, I…admit that I'm at fault here."_

 _Ludwig was speechless. Roderich_ never _apologized to anyone. His pride was much too great for that. Elizabeta or Gilbert always ended up saying sorry for him, which the stuck up brat completely hated._

 _"Is it too much to ask for you two to stay out of trouble? I hate to tell you this, but things are going badly for our house. I'm under a lot of stress right now. So, can I have your word that you'll be a bit more considerate?"_

 _"I uh, yes!" Ludwig stammered, still dumbstruck about what just happened._

 _"Thank you. Oh, and that girl wanted to see you. Shall I let her in?"_

 _"Sure," Ludwig replied, trying to hide the excitement in his voice._

 _As soon as Roderich left, the girl came into his bedroom, carrying a bouquet of wildflowers. "I picked these for you!" She chirped, handing them to Ludwig._

 _"Thank you," Ludwig took them with his free hand, watching the young girl jump up on his bed. She was wearing an old dress of Elizabeta's today, a gentle pink colour with white flower designs. As always, she looked beautiful in it. But Ludwig could never say that to her face._

 _"So, is your arm any better?"_

 _"Not really," Ludwig felt the red blush start to crawl up his neck._

 _The girl frowned, coming over and sitting down right beside Ludwig. His face felt a thousand degrees hotter as she nestled in next to him. "That's too bad. And is your head okay?"_

 _"What happened to my head?"_

 _She paused. "You mean, you don't remember?"_

 _Ludwig shook his head._

 _"Well, when you fell off you passed out for a bit. When you came to you started to say things about someone called Toris. And then you started talking about pain and torture, and…" She stopped, wrapping her arms around Ludwig's neck. "You scared me."_

 _"I'm sorry –" Ludwig froze, as the pieces once again clicked together. His dream flickered, and he was taken back to the dark cellar. Toris was leaning over him, dragging his fingernails down the man's face while singing some strange song to him. There was some new torture weapon in his hand, but Ludwig couldn't quite make it out. He snapped out of the trance, remembering everything that had just happened. The smell of vodka, the whip, the sting of the knife, getting his head slammed against the wall, it all came back in one big rush. But this time he wasn't going to scare the girl. So he came up with a plan to get her to say her name._

 _"Wait, who am I again?" Ludwig said, pretending like he was confused about his identity. "And who're you?"_

 _"Did you really hit your head that hard? You're Ludwig, silly, and I'm…" Her voice dropped out as she said her name, just like it did last time._

 _"Can you repeat that?" Ludwig held his head, acting like he was in pain when really he felt quite fine._

 _"My name's Fel –"_

* * *

Ludwig awoke violently, suddenly very cold and wet. For a moment he lay on the floor and gasped for air like he was drowning, until he saw the two boots in front of his face. Slowly he traced his way up the mysterious legs, until he came to an all too familiar face.

Toris stood over him with a bucket in his hands, dripping ice water. He looked like he wanted to do more than dump water over Ludwig right now, something along the lines of disembowelment.

"Get up, you lazy ass pig," he growled, giving Ludwig a few encouraging nudges with the toe of his boot.

Shaking away the spots and colours from his sight, Ludwig realized his hands were untied and the gag was gone. Warily he got to his feet, wondering if he could hold his own weight. Much to his surprise, he could. Snatching up his shirt from where Toris had thrown it across the room the night before, Ludwig triumphantly marched up the stairs. He was going far away from Toris now, and couldn't be more excited. That is, until he remembered he was passed out for most of the night.

"Ludwig, do you remember anything from last night?" Toris called from the bottom of the stairs.

"Yes, I remember it all un – " he stopped midsentence, realizing Toris was testing him. The Lithuanian wanted Ludwig to say he didn't. "I don't remember a thing."

"Oh, yes, very good. Now, run along and don't say a word to anyone about this, okay?"

"Ja, I won't say anything."

Suddenly Toris was right behind him, putting a hand on Ludwig's shoulder. Ludwig tensed up out of instinct, wondering how he could've come up behind him so quietly. "I never knew how badly you wanted to ride horses. Or girls, for that matter."

 _The dream_. Ludwig must've been muttering to himself in his sleep. Gilbert often complained of Ludwig saying things while he was sleeping, so it made sense. _Damn my subconscious mind! Couldn't I have been quiet for once?!_

"I, um…it's not what it sounded like," Ludwig faltered, his face turning a bright pink. "She wasn't… no, I wasn't…"

"I get it. Being in a prison camp for even a week or two can make someone like you pretty desperate for a woman, can't it? Sorry, we don't have many girls that come here." Toris brushed past him, a huge smirk on his face.

 _I'm going to kill him when I have the chance._

* * *

 **A/N: Hello! I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving!**

 **So, there really isn't much to say about this chapter. This was my first adventure into writing descriptive violence, so I hope it isn't too atrocious. I'm not usually a dark writer like this.**

 **I want to say thank you's to** NepheleNilfhain, Autobot StormBreaker, Comix and Co, **and** italy'sfauchereve. **You guys made my lonely little heart happy. Thank you, you precious cinnamon rolls!**

 **Also, if I could get a few reviews that would be nice. Like I said, I'm very lonely where I live.**

 **See you all next chapter!**


	13. The Short Mercenary

Ludwig sat up in bed, trying to fall asleep without letting his back or stomach touch anything. For the past several nights he'd gotten little to no sleep, since he couldn't lie down without screaming. He'd made the mistake of trying to lie down when he first came back after getting torn up, which resulted in a few minutes of trying not to cry. No matter what position he tried, every single cut burned like hell. Perhaps it was Toris' intent to keep him awake – if it was, the plan was working flawlessly. So, to pass the seemingly endless nights, Ludwig had taken to sitting up and patiently waiting for Toris to come and unlock the cells. Every morning since that night the Lithuanian was happy to find Ludwig silently suffering from sleep deprivation, often asking him how he slept or what he dreamed about. _At least Gilbert can sleep on his stomach,_ Ludwig thought enviously, looking over at his brother. His bandaged fingers peeked out from under the blanket, still a bit crooked even with Yao's help. _Then again, I didn't get my fingers broken, so I guess it's some sort of sick tradeoff._

Yawning loudly, Ludwig went back to listing off all of the female girl names he could think of that started with "Fe" on his fingers. It was his only clue to the girl, and he probably could've got her full name if it wasn't for Toris. Just another reason for him to hate the Lithuanian even more than he already did.

 _Let's see, there's Fenja, Felicie, Feliciano…wait, that's Italy's name. Damn it, brain, work right! I know I'm excruciatingly tired, but can't I just think about this without distractions?_

"Hey Basch?" Ludwig heard Gilbert whisper, startling him out of his mental scolding. A few moments of silence followed, and then Basch finally acknowledged him.

"This better be good, asshole," Basch grumbled, understandably irritated that the Prussian was trying to engage him in conversation at this hour. There was the rustle of fabric and the creak of the metal supports of the cot as Basch turned on his side to face Gilbert with an over exaggerated groan.

"I was just thinking, what do you think will happen to Hungary? I mean, the whole country," Gilbert asked.

"I am not staying awake to answer philosophical questions with you. _Gute Nacht_." Basch huffed, pulling the thin blanket over his head.

"Okay, then let me ask you something that interests you. Is Lilli safe?"

For a long time Basch was silent. Ludwig figured he was ignoring Gilbert; it wasn't anything new from the Swiss. Gilbert was in the habit of ignoring people too, although he was starting to loosen up with Ludwig again. Now the two of them could have a civilized conversation without trying to murder the other.

"I hid her," Basch finally answered, his voice tinged with fear. "In a cabin up in the Alps. She's been up there with Natalia and since Yekaterina you went to war, because Ivan paid me damn good money to hide them. Yekaterina promised that she'd take care of Lilli, and I was foolish enough to trust her. She seemed like such an airhead, surely she wouldn't try anything. And then I learned that Ukraine became part of the Empire, and I tried to get Lilli out of there, but Yekaterina assured me everything was fine. I have no clue what's even going on right now with her. The only people who know they're actually up there are me and a few government officials. You're the first normal being I've told. Well, as normal as you can get."

So Ivan's sisters were hiding with Lilli up in the mountains. Ludwig could only imagine how well that worked. Did any of them know what was happening to their siblings right now? Hopefully not, since Lilli would be in full out panic and Natalia would be livid. Suddenly he felt terrible for Yekaterina, if she had to take care of a furious Belarusian and a small girl.

"She can shoot pretty damn well, so if Feliks or that bastard Francis comes after her, I think they'll all be fine," Basch sighed. "It breaks my heart to see her with a gun, though. She's so delicate and graceful, and then you catch her holding a semi-automatic, and she looks so different. Sort of ruins her appearance… you know?"

"She's still Lilli Zwingli. It's not as if she –"

"Vogel," Basch interrupted. "Her last name's Vogel."

"What? Wait, seriously? How come I never knew this?" Gilbert asked, sounding quite confused.

"She wanted to take my last name when I took her under my wing. And I never thought I'd need to tell you this. Didn't Roderich tell you? He was her ' _father'_ of sorts for a while."

"Okay, you need to remember Roderich doesn't like me. At all. Anyway, now that I know that, it's not like Lilli _Vogel_ ," he said, drawing out Vogel. "Takes on a different identity when a weapon's in her hands. And she really wants to be like you. Even if that means shooting guns stronger than she is. How many girls do you know who cut their hair and wear military uniforms just to look like their big brother?"

"Not many."

"So, I think she'll be fine. After all, she is imitating you. And you're not too terribly messed up," Gilbert yawned.

"Thanks, you douche."

And that was it. The longest and deepest conversation anyone had ever held with Basch was over.

As Ludwig sat up and stared into the darkness sleepily, thoughts of his family came to mind. They were already down a person and he wasn't sure how long Roderich would last. In just a matter of days he'd gone from unapproachable and depressed to openly expressing how much he wanted to die. Sure, he reverted back to his normal snobbish attitude, but he'd started disobeying Toris' orders in hopes that he would get the shot of radium. The only flaw with his plan was that Toris knew Roderich wanted to be gone. And so the Lithuanian was enjoying beating Roderich senseless, always dealing the punishments with a cruel smile. It made Ludwig long for the times before the war, when Toris was caring and scared of upsetting anyone and Roderich would quickly obey anyone if he knew there would be punishment.

But one thing Ludwig longed for more than the old Toris and almost more than beer was his own bed. It had been ages since he had even slept on something comfortable, much less been in his own room. He missed the warm blankets desperately, or having his dogs curled up next to him. Suddenly he became very worried about his dogs. Were they okay? He'd left them in the hands of a government official who offered to take the three large and slightly spoiled puppies. But the official was gone at work all day, leaving the dogs alone in a large house. He couldn't bear to think of his precious babies hungry and alone.

Thoughts of his beloved dogs triggered something inside of him, making the German recall memories from long ago. All the meals he had shared with everyone, Christmases alone with his dogs, watching movies until early morning with Kiku and Feliciano.

Every new memory was full of warmth and comfort, easing Ludwig's worried mind. Even the ones of dragging Gilbert home from the bar at three in the morning. And unknowingly, Ludwig finally fell asleep.

* * *

 _A loud crash awoke Ludwig in the middle of the night. Terrified, he pulled the covers over his head and prayed the monsters weren't coming for him. For a few mortifying seconds he laid there, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Slowly he came to the realization that he couldn't hear footsteps or heavy breaths, and nothing had torn open his chest yet. Carefully, he peeked out from under the sheets. No gleaming eyes or sharp fangs were there to greet him, only darkness. A flash of lightning lit up his room, trailed closely by thunder. Only then did he notice it was raining outside, and it was probably just the storm that woke him up._

 _For a few seconds he was ashamed of himself for getting so afraid of a storm. After all, he was supposed to grow up into a valiant knight. What sort of hero was afraid of a thunderstorm? While he was berating himself, a loud bell clanged. That certainly wasn't the storm. Then there was a murmur of voices, and several footsteps._

 _Now he wasn't as much afraid as curious. If it wasn't a monster, what made that noise? Ludwig threw off the covers, and blindly stumbled over to where his door was, at least in his memory. After running his hand along the wall to find the handle, he warily opened the door. Nothing was out in the hallway, so he went over to the balcony. Leaning over the railing, he saw the thin silhouette of Roderich disappear into the front room. Gilbert and Elizabeta followed close behind, the Prussian holding a sword in one hand and a candleholder in the other. He glanced about the room, the blade gleaming in the candlelight._

 _"Ludwig? Is that you?" A tiny voice called from behind him. Ludwig turned to find the girl, rubbing her eyes sleepily._

 _"Ja, I'm here. Did you get scared?"_

 _The girl came over to his side, yawning loudly. "Do you know what happened?"_

 _"No. I saw Roderich and Gilbert go down into the front room. Would you like to come with me to find out?" he asked._

 _"Sure," she said, grabbing his hand. An electric shock ran through Ludwig, and he was thankful for the darkness to conceal his red face. "Lead the way."_

 _Quietly they went down the grand staircase, Ludwig trying not to focus on the fact that_ he was holding the girl's hand. _For years he'd tried to get the courage to even touch her, and she just went up and did that. He could feel the soft silk of her nightgown on his fingers, her gentle hand curling around his own. It all made his heart race, but in a good way._

 _When they arrived in the front room, Roderich had just opened the door to reveal a knight and a small girl. Gilbert pointed the sword at the knight in a challenging manner, his red eyes wide with fear. Elizabeta clung to Roderich's arm, hiding behind the man. The knight held his shield over the girl to protect her from the rain, his words echoing in his helmet as he spoke._

 _"Roderich, it's me. You remember Lilli, right? Listen, we need somewhere to stay," the knight demanded, his voice surprisingly high. He tore off his helmet, and everyone immediately relaxed._

 _"Dear God, you nearly scared all of us to death. Come in, but please be quiet. The younger ones are –" he turned around to find Ludwig and the girl standing in the hallway, still holding hands. "Forget it. You can be as loud as you want," he sighed. "What are you two doing up?"_

 _"We got scared," the girl replied._

" _Who are those people?" Ludwig asked, pointing to the two he'd never seen before. They both had bright blonde hair and green eyes, and he assumed they were twins, at the least brother and sister._

 _"That's my baby brother, Basch," Gilbert answered, coming over to the two children. "He must've stopped here on a visit here since mercenary work brought him by. Basically, he's trying to get a free meal and place to sleep."_

 _"Ha, ha, very funny," Basch mocked, shutting the door behind him. "That's not the reason we're here."_

 _Basch was dressed in full armor with his helmet rested in the crook of his arm. A sheath on his left hip held a magnificent sword, with a beautiful gold handle and jewel embellishments. Draped over his shoulders was a red cloak, which seemed much darker from being soaking wet. He fit the part of the mercenary quite well, with a vicious look in his eyes and a large coat of arms over the breastplate of his armor. The only real problem Ludwig could find was that Basch was quite short for a knight, barely coming up to Roderich's chin. All the knights in books and paintings were tall and princely looking, while Basch looked like he could be a girl if he didn't have the armor and flat chest._

 _"And that would be Lilli. She lives in the southern house with Basch. I have no clue what she's doing here with him, though. He never lets her come with him."_

 _Lilli appeared to be a few years older than Ludwig, her golden bangs framing her round face. She seemed rather sweet, bearing a smile as she spoke to Roderich. Her clothes were like what most of the girls wore in the nearby village – a simple white blouse with a blue skirt and apron. A red ribbon was tied at the ends of both of her braids that fell over her shoulders, and she too wore a red cloak, albeit not as soaked as Basch's._

 _"No, you can't be serious," Roderich gasped, putting a hand over his mouth. "I mean, I knew it was getting bad, but…"_

 _"You think I'm joking about this? We barely had time to get out of there before everything started falling apart," Basch said, looking over at Lilli. She nodded in agreement._

 _Roderich started pacing back and forth like he did when he was nervous. And by the look on his face, he was panicking. "Are you positive it wasn't just a minor disturbance? Perhaps it was just a little riot or something? Ludwig isn't in hysterics yet, so there can't be too much wrong. There has to be some explanation other than…well…you know what."_

 _"It can take some time before everything starts to kick in. And he's so young. God, I thought you couldn't get any denser," Basch huffed. "Listen, it's very late, so if you could just show us where to sleep that would be great."_

 _"Right. Elizabeta, show Lilli to the guest room. I'm going to talk to my brother for a bit longer. And take the children back to bed, would you?" Roderich said, his amethyst eyes full of worry._

 _Elizabeta nodded, motioning for Lilli to follow her. Soon she was leading all three of them back upstairs, asking Lilli questions in a hushed voice. Ludwig tried unsuccessfully several times to listen in, but the Hungarian told him it wasn't polite to eavesdrop and made her voice even quieter._

 _Once upstairs, Ludwig and the girl said good night and went into their rooms. The boy was left in silence to try and piece together what just happened. Two mysterious people appeared, something was collapsing, and Ludwig was supposed to be panicking. Nothing made sense, but then again, nothing ever made sense with adults. They always spoke in some strange code when they didn't want children to hear them, and they never had time for anything remotely fun._

 _All of a sudden Ludwig's entire right leg cramped up. He cried out and grabbed at it, rubbing the muscles to try and get them to loosen up. The pain wasn't going away; it almost was getting increasingly worse. Figuring it was just one of those growing pains that decided to strike at the most inconvenient times, Ludwig tried to find a position to put his leg in that wouldn't be too uncomfortable and wait it out. But the second he moved his leg, the pain spread up into his ribs. This wasn't just an obnoxious growing pain. It was constricting his chest, making every breath agonizing._

 _"Elizabeta!" he screamed, the panic finally overtaking him. "Elizabeta! I need you_ now _!"_

 _The woman burst into his room, her green eyes wide. "What is it? Oh, no, it's started, hasn't it?!"_

 _"I hurt really, really bad! My chest hurts and I can't breathe!"_

 _"Oh, dear…hold on, I need to go get Roderich!" she said, running out of the room and down the stairs. What seemed like several painful hours later she returned with Gilbert, Basch, and Roderich in tow._

 _"It's started," she gasped, pointing to Ludwig._

 _"What do you want me to do?" Roderich ran a hand through his chaotic ebony hair, looking over Ludwig nervously. "There's nothing we can do as of the moment. I'm sorry, but he'll just have to wait it out."_

 _They all came to Ludwig's side, Elizabeta running a hand down Ludwig's face like a doting mother. "I'm so sorry, but we can't do anything right now."_

 _"How long does it last?!" Ludwig shouted, clutching his side in a vain attempt to dull the pain._

 _Basch stepped forward, his metal armor clinking as he moved. "I'm going to be very straightforward right now. The longest one I've ever had lasted a day."_

 _"Basch!" Roderich hissed. "He's a child! You can't just tell him –"_

 _"Well, would you like me to lie to his face?" Basch said, giving Roderich a hard shove._

 _"It would be dramatically better than telling the poor boy he's going to suffer for a day!"_

 _Gilbert got down on his knees at Ludwig's side, stroking his blond hair. "You're going to be alright. I know you hurt, but you gotta be strong for me."_

 _"Strong?!" Ludwig echoed, his chest getting increasingly_ _worse as he spoke. He was in enough pain to start crying now, but he wasn't going to let his brother and a stranger see him cry._

 _"Well, yes. Now, we can't do anything to stop the pain. That's just the way we work. But maybe we could do something to take your mind off the pain."_

 _"I can't just ignore this," Ludwig groaned. "I feel like dying!"_

 _"What if we told you a story?" Gilbert offered._

 _"You know what, do it. It's not going to change anything."_

 _"Alright! Elizabeta and Roderich, you two can leave. Me and Basch got this." Gilbert smiled, gesturing for them to leave._

 _"Hold on, how did I get drawn into this?" Basch snarled._

 _"You're a mercenary, so you know how to tell a good knight story. Now, come on, we have a story to make!" Gilbert said, watching Roderich and Elizabeta leave. Elizabeta glanced back, glancing at Ludwig fearfully._

 _"So," Gilbert started. "I'll say something and then Basch'll add to it. Once upon a time, there was a pretty princess named Feli."_

 _"Wait, Feli?" Ludwig asked. That name sounded all too familiar. "Whose name is that?"_

 _"The girl's. God, did you hit your head today?" Gilbert laughed, motioning for Basch to kneel down beside him. With another clink of armor, Basch was begrudgingly next to the Prussian._

 _Feli. Ludwig repeated the name over and over in his head. It was a very pretty name that suited her, no doubt about it. But he'd heard it somewhere. And he was pretty sure he'd used it._

 _Feliciano. His nickname was Feli. Ludwig – the adult version of himself – called Italy by that nickname occasionally. What if they were the same person? But Feliciano was undoubtedly a man. This girl, Feli, shared some of the same qualities, but they couldn't possibly be the same person. Damn it, Ludwig thought he was getting somewhere with this!_

 _Once again the memories came together and Ludwig was suddenly aware of his dream, and even more away of the pain in his chest and leg. It seemed to react to his realization, increasing the pain sharply. He bit into the inside of his cheek, suppressing tears. Slowly they found their way out of his blue eyes, tracing down his face._

 _"No, don't cry!" Gilbert shouted, brushing away the tears. "C'mon, you're alright!"_

 _"No, no, no I'm not! I'm in so much pain right now, and I don't know who that girl really is, I have no clue who I am, and I'm not really a little kid! Hell, I'm hundreds of years old in a prison camp during this crazy war," Ludwig snapped, clutching his side even tighter. He felt like he was just run through with a sword, and then got stabbed a few times._

 _"What the hell are you talking about?" Gilbert asked._

 _"Perhaps he's gone delusional," Basch added, earning himself a prompt smack on the back of the head from Gilbert._

 _"Don't say that about my brother. Now, Ludwig, what are you talking about?"_

 _"Why don't I tell you a story now?" he said, trying to prop himself up. Ludwig gave up, the pain growing too much for him to handle. What little sight he had was beginning to blur into a disaster, and then it started to grow darker. "Oh, shit, I'm waking up," he cursed, feeling the pain start to subside. "Listen, if I ask you about this again, will you tell me everything?"_

 _"Will you stop talking in code and explain what you mean?" Gilbert hissed._

 _"I don't have much time here. Thanks for giving me the girl's name!"_

 _And with that little remark, Ludwig fully succumbed to the darkness._

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry this chapter is so short and not as significant. I want to do a bit of explaining about Basch and things relating to him.  
**

 **You'll have to excuse me for being so late with this, we had a family event today. I'm really trying here! It just seems that fate doesn't want me to post at regular times!**

 **Thank you to** Insidious Person **for being my new little follower!**

 **And special thanks to** thinkitover, Comix and Co, **and** StealthySparkles **for sending me reviews! I love you all so much, and you made my day!**

 **Don't worry, by the next chapter we'll return to our regular programming. And believe me, you're going to like it! Or hate it. I can't change the way you think about things.**

 **See you all next chapter!**


	14. Insanity of the Aristocrat

After a while, the days became monotonous. They blurred together into one giant disaster, each day the same as the last. Months went by and Ludwig didn't notice anything other than his wounds healed a bit slower than normal and he was very bored. For a few days he got to hone his inner seamstress and make himself a flag from scraps of the Baltic flags. The German flag was easy enough, since Ludwig only had to tear strips of black, red, and gold from the countless flags the others had stolen over time. He rather enjoyed the tedious work, until the needle found its way into his finger. Basch was the same way, except when he pricked himself, there was a long and overdramatic rant about how much he despised sewing.

But the real fun with the flags was watching Gilbert try to make his. Sure, the black and white stripes were easy enough, but once he got started on the eagle it was hilarious. For hours he sat there with only a pair of medical scissors, trying to turn a patch of black cloth into a somewhat eagle-like shape whilst shouting about how much he hated his flag and scissors. Of course, it didn't help that everyone was laughing at him. And then Gilbert accidentally cut off the eagle's head, which ended in a lot of screaming and fit throwing. After a while he pretty much gave up with all the intricate details and slapped the eagle on the flag while it still looked like something a kindergartener would draw.

Finally their flags were hung above the door, further angering Toris. Ludwig liked the idea of the flags. It was like their little mini-revolt, and it sure as hell made Toris mad. But for some strange reason, he let them keep their flags up.

Sadly, the boredom came back after the flags were hung. There was absolutely nothing to do in this bleak camp, leading to long hours spent arguing over trivial things with Basch or Gilbert. To make matters worse, the dreams were turning into a rare occurrence. He might be lucky if he got a scrap of a dream, and he never realized he was dreaming fast enough to learn anything. So for now he was just recording what he saw in the dreams on a piece of paper he kept in his shirt pocket and trying to tie them together. Part of him enjoyed the dreams, but the other part wanted to know if they were forgotten memories of his childhood or an overactive imagination.

He tried on several occasions to get Gilbert, Roderich, or Basch to answer questions pertaining to the dreams, but they simply avoided them. Every time he asked about Basch's mercenary life or a girl by the name of Feli, whomever he was asking would either grow dead silent or quickly change the subject. And then he awoke to find that the list of dreams was missing. After a long frantic search he gave up and later saw Roderich tearing the page into pieces and pushing them through the fence. The Austrian avoided the furious Ludwig for a week, denying that he ever did it whenever he was approached. Ludwig wished Elizabeta was still here, because she wouldn't lie to his face. Something was definitely special about those dreams, but no one wanted to tell him.

But soon Ludwig's obsession with the dreams was pushed out of the way for something he never thought would come. Nobody was mentioning the date, but everyone knew it was coming. Everyone avoided saying anything about it, continuing on with their work and trying to make Roderich forget all about what was coming up. Then one day they all awoke to the sound of crying.

Exactly one year ago, Ludwig, Gilbert, and Basch arrived at Bolesność, at the same time of Elizabeta's death.

"What an absolutely lovely day," Toris laughed as he unlocked the cells, ruffling Roderich's hair. Roderich wiped away his tears, pushing Toris out of his way.

"Leave me alone," he mumbled as he buttoned up his shirt.

"I couldn't possibly ignore you today, Roddy."

"I _said_ ," Roderich snarled, grabbing Toris' collar. The Lithuanian was too stunned that Roderich was actually retaliating to do anything more than stand there and watch Roderich. "Leave me alone, you worthless brat. I know all too well what today is, and I don't need you reminding me. Maybe if you had any scrap of humanity left in you, you'd _understand!_ "

"Don't think you can just touch me like this. I think you're forgetting who has the power to kill you right now," Toris finally snapped back, tearing Roderich's hand away.

Roderich started laughing hysterically, startling everyone. "Go on and kill me then! Torture me in the most painful ways you want! Burn me to death, cut me open and put salt in my wounds, tear out my heart, take away any shred of dignity I have left here and _kill me_! _I would love that!_ "

"Oh, I know you would. Why the hell else would I keep you alive for so long?" Toris mocked in a sing-song voice. "Watching you suffer makes me happy. I love it when you remember that you're all alone in this miserable world, without your beloved wife or –"

 _Crunch!_

Toris staggered backwards, holding a hand over his now bleeding nose. He looked up at Roderich, trying to find any words to use, but he was completely stunned. Everyone else was at a loss for words, since Roderich Edelstein – _of all people_ – had just punched Toris in the face. Roderich seemed to be a bit surprised at his own actions, looking at his hand like it had just been cut off.

"You…you monster…" Roderich said, although Ludwig didn't know if he was talking to himself or Toris. "Look what you made me do." His eyes snapped up to Toris, blazing with hatred.

Toris grabbed the man's arm, returning the hit to the face. In just a matter of seconds the two were clawing and striking each other, while Gilbert and Basch cheered Roderich on. Ludwig had never seen Roderich look so wild. He always kept a calm and aristocratic manner about himself, but now he looked like an uncaged beast. Soon everyone was cheering for Roderich, shouting encouragements and degrading things to Toris. Then, after a long battle for dominancy Roderich pinned Toris to the wall, pressing his arm down on his throat.

"I hate to seem so _murderous_ , but you drive me to such levels of insanity," he panted, pushing down harder.

"The…pleasure is…all mine," Toris gasped, trying to remain calm. But a fool could see the panic in his eyes, and that he was obviously struggling to breathe.

"Strangle him!" Gilbert cheered. "Make the douchebag pay!"

"You know, I just might," Roderich smiled as Toris tried to push the Austrian off of him. Toris shook his head no, glaring at Roderich with a look that screamed, _"Don't you dare."_

For what seemed like eternity they all stood and watched Roderich choke Toris, the Lithuanian growing more desperate each second. He tried scratching, kicking, and punching his attacker repeatedly, but Roderich wasn't giving up. The most disturbing part of the whole event was the homicidal gleam in Roderich's eyes and his out of character grin. Whatever sanity the man still had with him looked like it was gone, reminding Ludwig of how Ivan looked when he got angry enough. It didn't help that his glasses were cracked in one lens and his hair was a disheveled mess.

Finally Toris passed out, and Roderich let him slump to the floor. The gleam of excitement and bloodlust in his eye was gone – now he just looked very afraid.

"Did I just…do that? What…what are we…I mean, we can't just leave…" he stammered, looking back at the others. The Austrian looked like a scared child, his hands trembling violently.

"We really ought to go before he wakes up," Gilbert said, walking over to Toris' motionless body and giving him a few nudges with his foot. "Way to go, Roddy."

"No, no, no, I shouldn't have done that. Because now he's going to be angry, and I'll end up getting tortured, and then I'll have to live with the thought that I actually _wanted and intended to kill someone_! What sort of monster does something like that?!" he screamed, grabbing a fistful of his hair.

Ivan went over and put a hand on Roderich's shoulder, giving him a sickeningly sweet smile. "Who hasn't wanted to kill someone and maybe gone a little bit too far with the thought? And Toris seems like very good person to start with, da?"

"Easy for you to say, you're a madman already. I'm not crazy–" Roderich started right as Toris groaned and his eyes fluttered. Everyone took this as their cue to run, and the six of them sprinted out to roll call while trying to convince Roderich that he wasn't a lunatic.

* * *

Three days passed before Roderich returned. He was battered and bruised, but refused Yao's help. Instead the Austrian took to staring at the wall blankly and crying. No one could approach him for a long time, and when he eventually loosened up he wouldn't say anything about what Toris did to him. He continued on as if nothing had ever happened, ignoring any questions about those three days.

With each passing day, Toris was becoming crueler. He was happy to whip anyone who he felt wasn't doing something right, and someone was always missing from the cells for misbehavior. Basch spent a lot of time in the basement, even coming up with a few nicknames for some of the weapons. Laughing about getting tortured, showing off his "battle scars" with pride, the Swiss was all too excited to tell horror stories about what happened in the cellar. Ludwig couldn't count the red marks running up and down Basch's back anymore or how many nights were spent listening to vivid descriptions of agony.

Every day became as dull and painful as the last with Toris in charge. Wake up, go to work and get beat for something you didn't do while the person who committed the act watched on shamefully, eat dinner, and go to bed. They had very little time for anything else; except for the hour after dinner everyone was free to walk around. Ludwig usually spent that hour arguing with everyone about whose turn it was to do the laundry. The battle was usually won by Yao or Basch, the former being defended viciously by Ivan, the latter being the most threatening. Roderich always lost.

After all the fighting was done, they would play card games with a deck Ivan had found. Ludwig became quite good at Blackjack – after playing it hundreds of times. They would all put something into the pot, and it was even better when Yao agreed to play. Yao was constantly working in the kitchen, so he had stolen food with him some days. Stealing seemed to be his area of expertise, and he could get away with quite a lot. He once bet two bars of chocolate, and Ludwig thought Roderich was going to kill Basch when he won.

Antonio and Lovino played with them too. Antonio had a terrible poker face, but Lovino was surprisingly good. He won more games than almost all of them combined.

"Look at that," Lovino smirked, laying down his hand. Everyone groaned, watching the Italian take away two strips of beef jerky and a half empty pack of cigarettes. "And I don't even smoke."

Ivan gathered up all the cards, putting them back in the box. "I'm not playing just to give all my things away to him."

"You're all just jealous you can't be as good as me," Lovino said smugly, crossing his arms.

"No, we're all pissed we've given away almost everything we own to a lazy Italian," Basch snapped.

"Did Lovino win again?" Gilbert laughed, walking into the cell house. He was carrying the broken basket full of their clothes, as it was his turn to do the laundry.

"What do you think?" Ludwig snatched the basket away from him. Gilbert was infamous for taking the uniforms and hiding them, so he didn't have the honours of doing the laundry often.

Ivan grabbed the basket from him, starting to hang them up on the rafters. He stopped for a moment, looking confusedly at the empty basked and then back up at the supports.

"Um, Gilbert, there's only five. And there's six of us," Ivan said.

"Oh, really?" Gilbert grinned, glancing up from his diary. "Now, whose could be missing?"

"I'm going to take a guess and say Roderich," Ivan sighed.

"Don't ask me. I have _no_ idea what happened to them or whose they are."

Ludwig rolled his eyes. "Where is it?"

"I threw it up on the roof. Wanted to see if the bastard could get it down," Gilbert smirked, trying hard not to laugh.

Roderich came storming inside a minute later, wearing nothing but his underwear. He was soaking wet, as he'd just gotten out of the shower.

"Give it back, you asshole. I know it was you, since no one else here would stoop so low as to take someone's clothes while they're in the shower. And you knew perfectly well that I did my own laundry today, so they didn't need to be washed again." He hissed, coming over to Gilbert.

"You'll have to find them," Gilbert laughed, backing away from him.

Roderich was fuming, taking deep breaths and trying to refrain from smashing in Gilbert's face. "I know you put my clothes somewhere. Now if you would kindly give them back, no one will get hurt."

Gilbert looked shocked. "A threat? From Roderich Edelstein, of all people?" He snickered.

Roderich was _not_ laughing.

"Okay, I'll give you a hint," Gilbert said in an annoying falsetto voice. "They're somewhere high."

"On the roof? Again?" Roderich snapped. "Try to be creative next time; you did that to Yao last month." He turned on his heels, marching outside.

They all followed Roderich outside, wondering how in the world he was going to get on the roof. The Austrian wasn't known for his strength or ingenuity. Really, the only thing he seemed to be good at so far was defying orders and giving up. And those two traits weren't going to get his clothes down from the roof.

"I bet you one stick of jerky the idiota can't get down from the roof without Toris finding him." Lovino looked to Gilbert, waving the strip of jerky in his face enticingly.

"I bet you if he can, you can't play cards with us for a week," Gilbert offered smugly.

"And if he can't, I get all of your winning for the next week," Lovino said, holding out his hand.

"Deal," Gilbert smiled, and they shook on it.

Roderich stood in front of the door for quite some time, tapping his foot. He was obviously trying to figure out a way he could get up there. Something clicked in him, and he walked over to the side of the cell house, where the roof was barely above his head.

"There's no way he's going to be able to pull himself up," Basch said. "I've seen five year olds with more muscle tone than him."

Roderich grabbed the edge of the roof and miraculously was able to pull himself up. He walked over to his uniform, smirking at Gilbert while he pulled his pants on. "Take that, Beilschmidt."

"Now get down," Gilbert shouted. "C'mon, I have a stick of jerky on the line here!"

"You better be thankful I could even get up here for your beef jerky," he snarled as he pulled his shirt on.

"Roderich," Lovino yelled. "If you stay up there until Toris finds you, I'll get you anything you want. Anything at all – and yes, that does include chocolate."

Roderich stopped a few steps away from the edge, thinking about what Lovino said. He seemed to be seriously torn between evading punishment or getting beat but getting chocolate.

"That's cheating," Gilbert snapped, turning to Lovino.

"Not really. You never said anything about ' _encouragement_.'"

"That's not encouragement!"

"Yes it is! I'm encouraging him to stay on the roof! Gah, you Germans aren't only rude, but stupid!" Lovino rolled his eyes.

"Oh, really?" Gilbert huffed. "Then I'll take part in this encouragement of yours!" He looked up at the Austrian, who was truly considering how much chocolate was worth to him. "Hey, Roderich! Lovino thinks you have a nice ass! He's only offering to get you anything you want because he's totally in love with you!"

Lovino glared at him. "I said no such thing, you douchebag."

"He thinks you're the most beautiful thing on this Earth!" Gilbert shouted, sticking his tongue out at Lovino.

"Tell that Italian friend of yours I don't love anyone but Elizabeta. Oh, and chocolate definitely sounds much better than whatever you have to offer," Roderich called back, sitting down on the roof.

Lovino poked Gilbert in the chest. "Listen here, you asshole. I will kill you if you say another word."

"Did you hear that, Roderich?" Gilbert grinned. "He says he wanted Elizabeta dead. Now he can have all of your love! Because he's so infatuated with you it's –"

Roderich was off the roof in a second, and tackled Gilbert. The Prussian groaned loudly as he was slammed to the ground, trying to push Roderich off of him.

"Lovino's the one…who said it!" Gilbert choked as Roderich grabbed his throat.

"Bullshit! Everyone knows him and Antonio are together! And I was planning on doing this to you anyway! Did you actually think I'd let you get away with this?!" Roderich roared.

"Actually, Ned's sister and I are sort of dating," Antonio added.

" _Shut up_!" Roderich spat, twisting Gilbert's arm behind his back. "I don't care who in the world you're seeing!"

"I didn't know Roderich could do this," Basch whispered to Ludwig.

"You're always stealing things from me!" Roderich yelled, grabbing a handful of Gilbert's hair. "First my country, then my wife, and now this!"

"My God, Roderich, it was a joke!" Gilbert snapped, kicking Roderich in the chest. "It was a joke!"

"A joke, my ass! Everything with you is a joke! And I have to bear the brunt of all your stupid jokes and stealing, since I seem to be the only feasible subject here! God, I'm so fed up with Prussia! You'd steal my own damned country from me if you could, and then make some dumbass joke about it! I… I wish you would just _dissolve_ like _he_ did!"

For a split second Gilbert looked at Roderich with wide eyes, wordless. Then he snapped, pinning Roderich to the ground almost instantly. " _You take that back,"_ He growled in a low voice, leaning in close to the Austrian.

"You give back everything you've taken from me!" Roderich struggled to get out from under Gilbert, but the Prussian wasn't letting up.

" _Why don't you do the same?!_ You took _him_ away from _me_!"

"You act like I sent _him_ off to war on my own! No sane person would ever do that! HRE went on his own accord, you dolt! It's not my fault that blond bastard did what he did!"

"But you could've stopped it! You could've done something to stop HRE, but you didn't! You were too damn scared!" Gilbert's voice cracked as he spoke, and he sounded like he was going to cry. "And the next thing I knew there was blood on Francis' sword and a dead boy in the dining room. _All because of you!"_

Roderich finally pushed Gilbert off of him. "It's not _my_ fault! The whole damn house collapsed! Or did you miss that part? Hell, you were probably off drunk or thieving somewhere! Here, let me recap for you. Let's see, lots of suffering and agony for the poor boy, everyone hated and was extremely angry with me, oh, and then Napoléon waltzed in and _slaughtered everyone_!"

The rest of them just stood and watched the two fighting on the grass. Ludwig held up his Iron Cross, turning it so he could see the letters. Gilbert and Roderich were fighting over someone named HRE, the same name engraved on the back of the Cross. But why did Ludwig have that on his Iron Cross? What if this was connected to the dreams? Now he was very interested in their argument, trying to listen for any clues to the dreams that would accidentally slip out.

" _What the hell do you think you're doing?!"_

They all turned to face Toris.

"I leave you alone for a little less than an hour, and you're trying to kill each other?" He huffed. "I can't even trust you to be together, can I?"

Everyone looked at him, frozen like deer in headlights. Gilbert had his hands on Roderich's throat, and Roderich was in the process of biting him.

"Okay, you know what, I'm done. Roderich, since you can't seem to control your anger even though I punished you severely, you're going to be in solitary confinement for twenty days," he barked, pushing past everyone and grabbing Roderich's arm.

"Ha, look who's the loser!" Gilbert laughed, tripping the Austrian as he was dragged away.

Toris spun around, giving Gilbert a death glare. "Do you want to be in solitary confinement in my basement for twenty days?"

"Oh, so you can use me for twenty days? Well, listen here, I do not enjoy being played with like someone's toy. Unlike a certain _Lithuanian_ I know."

"You're pushing your luck," Toris growled.

Gilbert stood up, walking right up to Toris. "Well, watch me push it further. _'Oh, look at me_ ," he mocked in an atrocious Slavic accent. " _My name's Toris and I loved to be used by big Russian men. Especially if they go by the name of Ivan and have large noses. Large noses are my fetish. That really turns me on.""_

Much to his surprise, Ivan burst out laughing. Gilbert must've momentarily forgotten the Russian was there, as he turned around to face him with wide eyes. "Oh, God, Ivan, I totally forgot you were here. I'm so sorry, I meant no offense to you –"

"No, continue on!" Ivan smiled. "I'm laughing, not screaming!"

"No, but I'm screaming! And you've earned yourself solitary confinement in the basement!" Toris took a handful of Gilbert's hair, pulling him away along with Roderich. "Go! Everyone else get in bed before I _kill you_!"

* * *

 **A/N: Augh! I'm so sick right now it isn't even funny! Headaches, sore throat, and a possible ear infection that I may or may not be ignoring. But enough about me and my woes.  
**

 **Sorry, no dreams this time! I don't want to post giant brick chapters. I prefer to keep them short and sweet. And besides writing Roderich as a madman is, well, much more fun than a sane man. Once you have a bit more leniency to a character, they become ten times more fun. So most of this chapter was devoted to his sanity.  
**

 **Also, as I mentioned in the past, this story was made for my little sister. If you'll notice, Antonio says he is dating Belgium. SpainxBelgium is my sister's most aggressive ship, besides PruHun. So for any Spamano or whatever else you ship Antonio with fanatics, I apologize. I mean no insults to your ships, okay? Blame my sister and her love for the ship! She loves the two of them together so much it's ridiculous. But, I guess the same can be said for myself and RussiaxSeychelles...so really the two of us are in the same boat. However, her ships actually have other supporters than herself. I'm forever alone in my little boat.**

 **It seems there weren't any new followers this time around. I guess I've sort of maxed out at 20? Not that I'm complaining or anything!**

 **Thank you to the guest reviewers** Le Cinnamon Roll **( you chose a good little name there!)** **and** Flaming Fyre **, and my little happiness bringer,** Comix and Co **. Once again, you make me very happy to wake up and find someone loves what I write!**

 **See you all next chapter!**


	15. Just a Little Bit Crazy

_Tick, tock, tick, tock._

The Prussian was on the verge of insanity as he sat in the dark. He wanted to smash that stupid clock into oblivion so badly he could feel the urge in his hands. Every single tick was eroding his mental state, like a steady drip of water on a rock. After a while, the rock wears down to just a tiny sliver, and Gilbert was that close to snapping. God, how Gilbert wanted to _scream._ Anything, just _anything_ to help him relieve his pent up anger, that's all he wanted right now.

But Toris had Gilbert wrapped around his finger. Without the bastard, Gilbert couldn't do anything except for wait impatiently for his return. Gilbert's hands were tied up; his feet were tied to a cinderblock Toris had magically produced from who-knows-where, and as always, he was gagged. And God was he hungry. He hadn't eaten anything since whatever night he was taken prisoner, and that was two or three days ago.

And then, like forcing Gilbert to remain in one spot for long periods of time wasn't enough without talking or food, Toris had to put that God forsaken clock just barely out of his reach. It was an invisible torture weapon – he couldn't see it, but it was there, bringing along the _lovely_ ticking noise with it. The only sound Gilbert heard for the past handful of days was the noise of the demonic contraption, and he never wanted to hear another clock in his life. He hoped whoever invented clocks that ticked died a slow and agonizing death as atonement for such a ridiculous idea.

 _Tick, tock, tick, tock._

 _Okay, I need to get my mind off of things. Laying here and cursing clockmakers won't help at all,_ Gilbert mentally groaned. _What are some nice things to think about….Ludwig? He isn't really_ nice _, but I guess he'll do. I wonder what the brat's doing tonight, or today, or whatever time of day it is. If that stupid kid is writing down his dreams again, I swear I'll –_

 _Wait, what did Roderich say that list was about?_

 _Oh, my God, he's onto it. Why didn't I connect all the pieces before?! He keeps asking stupid questions about Feli, and he talks of Basch's mercenary work. And then there are all those dreams….oh, no. No, no, no, no! Shit, how's he even getting those memories back? I thought they were so repressed that he'd never get them. Damn it, Roderich, you lied straight to my face! You said he'd never remember! What sort of psychiatrist are you?! I want to know where you got your PhD, Mr. Oh-Sure-I-Know-What-I'm-Doing-With-A-Young-Boy's-Mind! "Oh,_ ja _," he says, "I know exactly what I'm doing here. I'm definitely_ not _pretending like I understand psychiatry! Now, I'm going to give him subconscious suggestions and hopefully that'll prevent him from ever learning of his past." Liar! You aristocratic, manipulative, bitchy,_ liar!

 _Calm down, Gilbert. It's cool, Ludwig's fine, you're fine, everyone's fine. Well, save for Toris. Lucifer is_ not _okay. But Ludwig's just going through a little thing. With a little innocent manipulation we can return to a clueless Germany. And then once he forgets all about this everything can go back to…what? What even is there to go back to now? Who knows how long we'll be stuck in this hellhole. What's there to guarantee we'll all make it out alive? Say we do. Everyone else has their countries and people to return to – well, Ivan may still be neglected as the disgrace that he is. But he at least has something to hope for._

 _And then there's me. Poor lonely Prussia, with nothing to return to. Not a single citizen, no land of my own, not even a girlfriend, dare I say boyfriend, to come back to. How can a man so great as me be all alone in this world? Obviously there's a mistake here._

 _Oh, dear, I seem to be pitying myself again. And holding a one-sided conversation with myself. I must really be going insane. Probably because of that damned clock!_

Above him, the floorboards groaned. Quite excited by the sudden new noise, Gilbert snapped out of his mental reverie and focused his attention on the sound. A few more creaks followed, making a sort of path up above. It took him a couple seconds to realize the sounds were footsteps, and another moment to pick out the song among the noises. Someone was singing, their footsteps moving along to the rhythm of the song. They almost sounded like they were dancing, the muffled words and accompanying footsteps making an all too familiar beat. Whoever was upstairs was singing and dancing to polka music. Sure, they weren't the best singer in the world, or they weren't always on time, but the one-two rhythm was immediately recognizable.

The person was unknowingly giving Gilbert a nice little change from the ticking of the clock. He rather enjoyed a polka, being the representation of Prussia and all. And at this point, anything was better than the clock. Soon he found himself humming along with the person, making up the words in his head. He'd almost forgotten how much he liked polkas, especially when he went to the dances. Who wouldn't give up a chance for free beer, music, and dancing with pretty women?

Then the footsteps and song mysteriously stopped. Gilbert gave a stifled groan; the clock's ticking worming its ugly way back into his head. Why, oh why, did they stop singing? Did they want to torture him even further?

The footsteps started up again, but without a song or dancing. They drew closer and closer to the cellar door, telling Gilbert it could only be one person.

What happened next was like a scene ripped straight from a horror movie. First, there was an ominous creak of the basement door and a silhouette appeared in the rectangle of yellowed light. Gilbert could see it now – the killed slowly making his way down the stairs with a meat cleaver in his hand. The next victim, aka Gilbert Beilschmidt, lay defenseless in the corner. Groans from the stairs and heavy footsteps grew closer as each second passed agonizingly slow. All the audience could do was watch as the serial killer drew closer and closer to the helpless lamb for slaughter, until –

"Good afternoon, hell spawn!" Toris chirped, turning on a flashlight. Naturally, the first thing he decided to do with the light was shine it straight into Gilbert's eyes. Screwing his eyes shut to try and save his retinas from certain destruction, Gilbert waited for the harsh light to go away.

When he finally decided to open his eyes, he was startled to find Toris sitting right in front of him. He'd put the flashlight in between his legs to keep it in place, casting shadows over his face. And in the demon's hands was a plate of those disgusting little microwave sausage things.

But to a man who hadn't seen food in a handful of days, they looked like a delicacy.

"Would you like to eat these?" Toris asked deviously, pointing to the plate.

Gilbert wasn't going to let himself fall that easy. He'd seen this trick a thousand times before – if he answered yes, Toris wouldn't let him eat. So, Gilbert shook his head no and stuck his nose in the air.

Toris chuckled to himself. "You think you're so smart, don't you? I was going to just let you have them, but I guess you don't want to eat or you're pulling some stupid hunger strike. Might as well give these to the guard dogs."

 _Wait, what did he just say?_

Gilbert looked over at Toris, trying to talk to him through exaggerated eyebrow gestures and eye movement. He knew he must seem pretty desperate, silently begging for something to eat. Toris was getting quite a kick out of his desperation, a huge smile splitting his face. But after enough enjoyment, the Lithuanian leaned over and untied the gag. And then he removed the bindings on Gilbert's hands, pushing the plate close enough that Gilbert could grab it. Instantly he grabbed a handful of the little fake sausages and stuffed them in his mouth.

"God, do you have any manners at all, you savage?" Toris said.

"You try going without eating for a few days and then we can talk," Gilbert hissed, glaring at him.

Toris rolled his eyes, standing up. "Oh, fine. I guess that's a somewhat good reason, considering it came from you."

He walked over to a cabinet, throwing open the door. Putting the flashlight on a table behind him, he pulled something from the cabinet. Curious, Gilbert stopped eating and looked over at Toris. In his hands was a long knife, which he was examining carefully. Putting it back, he removed another blade and began looking it over. The Lithuanian started to hum as he wiped the blade clean with a cloth. Gilbert instantly recognized the song as the one he'd heard upstairs minutes ago. And Gilbert got a wonderful idea.

"You have a beautiful voice, Toris," he said smugly.

"Is that an insult?" he asked, looking over at Gilbert.

The Prussian shook his head. "No, it's a sincere compliment. And I never knew you liked polkas so much."

"What are you even –" Toris started, furrowing his brow in confusion. Suddenly it clicked with him, and he slammed the knife down on the table. "How did you even hear that?"

"You weren't exactly ' _quiet'_. I'm not saying you're a bad singer. Do you think you could sing again for me?"

Furious, Toris snatched the knife back up and grabbed the flashlight. He came over to Gilbert, raising the knife above his head. Gilbert instinctively covered his throat with his hands, bracing himself for the stab. A few moments passed before Gilbert noticed there wasn't a giant blade embedded in his shoulder. Still on edge, he glanced up at Toris.

The man looked like he had all the intent to shred Gilbert up, but couldn't. His hands were trembling so badly he almost dropped the knife, the fury he'd just shown masked by complete fear. He almost seemed to be afraid of Gilbert, taking a few steps back.

"You're afraid, aren't you?" Gilbert asked slowly, removing his hands from his throat.

"N-n-no!" Toris stammered. "I'm not sc-sc-scared of some pushover like you!"

"You're stammering! Not to mention that you're trembling and you look like you've just seen Ivan strip. Oh, wait, that'd be more of a euphoric expression. Give me a second to think of a good simile here. Ah! You look like you've just seen Berwald strip! No, that doesn't really fit too well. What about Alfred? Or maybe Roderich?"

"That's it! I'll b-b-be back tonight, y-y-you hear me? And I swear, I'm going to g-g-get drunk off my ass. Then you w-w-won't be able to stop me so easily," Toris snarled, throwing the knife down. Kicking the plate that still had the little sausages on it away, he brutishly tied Gilbert up again. Stomping back upstairs, he slammed the door behind him, leaving Gilbert back in the darkness with the ticking clock.

 _Tick, tock, tick, tock._

 _Dear God, at this rate I'll be the insane one._

* * *

 _Perhaps I am crazy._

The thought came to Roderich abruptly. He'd just been looking up at the ceiling and thinking about his fight with Gilbert and the idea came to mind. It didn't surprise him one bit, since he was so excruciatingly bored and alone here. He mulled the thought over for a moment. And then another. What if he really was insane? After all, he did strangle Toris and completely snap when Gilbert said those things about Elizabeta. When he started to look at his actions from a different angle, he really did give off the impression of a madman.

"What do you think about all of this, Elizabeta?" He asked, pulling the ring out from under his shirt. The diamond glimmered in the weak lights as he rolled the ring over and over in his fingers. "What would you say right now?"

 _"Oh, you're definitely not crazy. It's all that bastard's fault that you did all those things that might come off as slightly maniacal,"_ he answered his own question, imagining that it was Elizabeta's voice instead of his own. This had been his only coping strategy for the past year, and it worked most of the time. It only failed when he couldn't convince himself he was hearing Elizabeta's voice.

"And Toris doesn't help anything. He pushes me closer to insanity."

 _"There's something up with him, no doubt about it. Maybe he's just finally lost it? I think after living with Ivan for so long he's gone mad. But you're still sane."_

Roderich smiled, running his thumb over the smooth gold. "Thanks, that's just what I needed to hear. I'm glad you agree with me, because I think everyone's siding with Gilbert on this one. They've never seen the real Prussia."

 _"But I have. Do you remember how he used to hide around corners and scare poor little Feli and Ludwig?"_

"How could I forget? And he would tell the two stories of owls that came and pecked out young children's eyes if they were outside after sunset. Then there was the infamous story of the wolf that lived in the ceiling and would eat them up if they were too loud. God, I spent so much time trying to keep him under control it was ridiculous," Roderich laughed.

 _"And then there was that time when he decided he needed to bake a cake at three in the morning. I don't know if he was drunk or extremely depressed. It's hard to tell the two emotions apart with him."_

"Looking back on it," Roderich said. "I think the award for the most insane moment of his was when he crashed one of my concerts on horseback. Just rode the thing straight into the concert hall without much of a thought. God, how I wanted to kill him, embarrassing me like that! That time he was drunk though, without a doubt. A sober Gilbert would never have gone near somewhere intellectual."

 _"My favourite was when he built the fort in the hallway and wouldn't let Basch get through. I thought Basch was going to impale him when Gilbert told him that he had to pay a toll."_

"How did anyone ever make it alive out of that house? Between fights and weapons demonstrations with Gilbert and Basch, someone should've been dead. Well, excluding the obvious."

 _"Speaking of Feli and little Ludwig, has Ludwig shown any more interest in his past?"_ He glanced out the window as he spoke, watching the colours of the sunset fade away from the cold stone.

Roderich shook his head. "No, nothing yet, but he's onto it. I think his memories are coming back via dreams. He's talked of Feli, and that time that we went to the edelweiss meadow, and Basch and Lilli coming to the main house. I tore up his little list he was making to put all the clues together, but I think he's making a new one. What am I going to do if he uncovers the whole story?"

 _"Why don't you just try to stop him?"_

"Sadly I can't really stop his dreams, other than waking him up. And that wouldn't go over very well. But perhaps you can intervene? You know, being dead and all."

 _"I can't do that, and you know it. Believe me, if I could do things like that, I would've already visited you."_

"Right," Roderich yawned. "You should try working on that. It's so lonely here. I would love a visit from you, even a short one. I can't live off my brothers' company and Ivan and Yao's forever."

 _"I'll try my best."_

"Thanks." Roderich kissed the ring, putting it back under his shirt. He froze for a moment, realizing how crazy he seemed for talking to himself and pretending it was his dead ex-wife. If he'd done something like this in the real world, the Austrian would've found himself locked up in a mental asylum with several psychiatrists working on his case.

"Oh, dear," Roderich sighed, looking back up at the ceiling of his holding cell. "I _do_ seem to be going quite mad."

* * *

"Um, Basch? Can I talk to you?" Ludwig asked quietly so as to not disturb the others.

"Are you turning into your brother? Because I swear to God, if you ask me some dumb question I will come over there and rip your throat out."

"No, I just wanted to ask you something. Do you remember anyone with the initials HRE? I keep having these weird dreams, and I think it's through HRE's eyes," Ludwig said, looking over at the Swiss.

Basch didn't answer.

"I asked you a question. Do you know anyone with the initials HRE?" He asked a bit louder and much more sternly.

"And I don't have to answer you," Basch hissed. "Now, go to sleep."

"You can't make me. Give me an answer _now_."

Basch groaned loudly. "Are you seriously going to do this? Listen; stop acting like a little kid and go to sleep already!"

"No!" Ludwig shouted, sitting upright in bed. He was determined to get an answer out of Basch, even if he had to resort to screaming like a child. "You're hiding something from me, and I know it! _Give me an answer!"_

"Why should I?! I am so much older than you, so don't think you can order me around, you little snot!" Basch shot back, turning away from Ludwig.

"Oh, so I'm the little kid here? You're the one acting like a five year old. I know that you know something about this HRE person and you don't want to tell me. Who are they?!"

"Would you just drop it?!"

"No! It's just a simple answer!"

" _Fine!"_ Basch roared. "Yes, I do know this HRE person! _Now go to bed!"_

Ludwig fell back, trying not to start screaming again. That was a terrible answer, nothing at all what he was looking for. Why was this so important to hide from him? It was just initials, nothing more than that. Unless, they pertained to the dreams. Yes, that had to be it! There was something about the dreams, something he shouldn't know! HRE must be a key part of those dreams.

"What does the first letter stand for?" Ludwig dared to ask Basch another question, knowing he ran the risk of getting screamed at again.

 _"Shut up."_

Obviously he wasn't going to get any information out of Basch, so he turned to the only other available person who might know what was going on – Ivan.

"Ivan, do you know what the first letter of HRE stands for?"

Ivan didn't reply for a while, probably considering the consequences of answering the question. "I think it stands for –" he started until Basch cut him off.

"If you answer him I will gut you like a fish! Do you hear me? Let me make this clear for you – your insides will become your outsides. Visualize that. Now, would you like to finish your sentence?" Basch said smugly, glancing over at Ludwig.

"Ludwig, I believe the H stands for Holy," Ivan answered quietly.

Basch instantly got out of bed, walking over to the barred wall and reaching out towards Ivan. "You filthy, rotten, son of a bitch! I said not to answer him! And you just had to go and disobey me, didn't you? I am going to kill you first thing tomorrow morning! Nothing, absolutely _nothing_ will stop me! I will tear out your heart and burn it!"

"My heart can fall out anyway! I'm not scared of some short brat who believes that he can control a country as strong and fearful as Russia," Ivan huffed.

"You're not strong or fearful! Your stupid wasteland you call home deserted you! Remember, you're nothing but a disgrace to your country? Disgrace, disgrace, _disgrace_!" Basch chanted in a sing-song voice, giving Ivan a cruel smile.

Now Ivan was out of bed, standing at his barred wall. "I'd much rather be a disgrace than a liar! A disgrace is so much better than an impostor! Pretending you know nothing of this HRE, what a joke! Ludwig, you know what he's trying to hide from you? He's – no, Roderich, him, and your own brother are trying to stop you from –"

" _Shut up! Shut up right now!_ It's for his own good! You wouldn't understand something like that, because your siblings _never loved you_! Nobody has ever loved you! It's all been faked! Your siblings hate you, the Baltics hate you, my family hates you! Everyone who has ever said they loved you was lying! No one could ever love someone like you, you cold hearted, demonic, scheming, revolting _beast_! _Everyone hates you!"_ Basch exploded, stomping his foot several times for emphasis.

Ivan didn't shoot back with anything. He slang back from the bars, disappearing back into the shadows. "No," he said, voice wavering. "You're…you're wrong. They love me. They all love me."

"Why don't you wake up and realize that everyone wants you dead? They want you gone for good," Basch growled, going back to his bed. "This world would be a much better place without you."

" _Stop it_ ," Yao snapped, finally stepping in. He went over to Ivan, pulling him into a tight hug. "You listen to me. He doesn't know what he's saying. People love you, Ivan."

"No they don't! He knows what he's saying. I'm just a b-b-burden," Ivan choked. He buried his face in Yao's shoulder, trying to hide his sobs.

Yao shot Basch a murderous glare. "You ass. Don't you take anyone's feelings into account?" He said, stroking Ivan's hair.

"Yes, as a matter of fact. I was trying to keep Ludwig safe."

"From what? Shouldn't he be allowed to know?"

"Roderich said not to tell," Basch said, lying back down. He pulled his blanket over his head, making sure to face the wall so he didn't have to make eye contact with anyone. "And he knows what's best. At least in this situation he does."

"You're a terrible person. Keeping that poor child from what he should have," Yao growled, leading Ivan back to his cot. He curled up next to the sobbing Russian, talking to him softly in Ivan's native language.

Ludwig fell asleep to the Yao's gentle words and Ivan's soft cries.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry for posting so late, we had computer troubles in my household!**

 **I don't really have that much to say, other than I wrote this while my father and sister play a WWII dogfight game. Every four seconds was "Those damn Soviets are at it again! Where the hell is the U-Boat?! Why is my plane doing that? Who put the ocean there?!" Oh, the hilarity never ends here.**

 **And yes, I do talk fondly of polkas because my family is Czech and I grew up on polka dances. You all should go to one, because they are amazing! It's super fun to dance and talk to everyone. I'm not really a social butterfly and I don't dance, but polkas are a different story. Yes, there is free beer at the one I go to. The fun things you can find in hick-towns.**

 **Big thanks to** Seele Esser Deutsch **(Especially since you followed and favourited and reviewed. Damn, you must really like me!)** Principality of Wy **,** Bitchacho **,** **and my loyal little reviewer,** Comix and Co. **I can't possibly express how much you guys mean to me!**

 **Thank you to everyone who reads this story, even if you do hate it. It makes me happy to see that people are reading my work!**

 **Also, is anyone as hyped up for Christmas as I am? I'm like APH Finland over here! Yay Christmas!**

 **See you all next chapter!**


	16. Ghosts That We Knew

_"The father shudders; he rides swiftly,_

 _He holds in his arms the moaning child._

 _Barely he arrives at the yard in urgency;_

 _In his arms, the child was dead."_

 _Ludwig jolted awake as Lilli read the last line of the poem aloud. He must've fallen asleep while she was reading, as he usually did when he was forced to listen to stupid poetry. And he wasn't expecting such a grim ending to a poem about a boy and his father on a night ride – it quite certainly surprised him. Who would've thought the child would end up dead? All the poems that the boy had read before ended up at least somewhat happy._

 _"That's a terrible story," Feli gasped, looking up at Lilli with big amber eyes. She too seemed a bit scared by the unexpected ending._

 _"But it's a true one. See, real stories don't always end so joyfully. Most of the time they end terribly and tragically, but you never hear about those. Everyone likes a happy story, right? So all the writers end their poems and novels on a happy note," Lilli explained, putting the book down on the table. "What do you think about it, Ludwig?"_

 _"Humans are strange," he answered sleepily, putting his head in his hands._

 _Lilli laughed a bit, leaning back in her chair. "I guess you're right. But you need to remember that we're mostly human. We make the same mistakes they do."_

 _"If we're so human, why don't we die like they do?" Feli asked._

 _"I really don't know," Lilli replied. "Perhaps it's because we have to stay with our country until the very end. But some countries have died before."_

 _"Like Grandpa Rome?" Feli added, her voice losing its normal liveliness._

 _"Well, yes… but I didn't want to mention that."_

 _"It's fine. He was in a lot of pain and stuff, so it was for the best, right?" The girl faked a smile._

 _Lilli nodded. "Oh, yes. If your grandfather was hurting so badly than it probably was for the best. And it's not all bad. You still have the memories to remember him by."_

 _Feli paused for a moment, her thin eyebrows knitted together in concern. "Could Mr. Austria die?"_

 _"Oh, no! He's just sick right now, that's all!" Lilli assured her, waving her small hands frantically to dismiss the idea. She sounded quite nervous herself, as if she didn't believe her own words. And by the look in her blue green eyes, she wasn't buying into what she was saying. "It's just a little cold; he'll be over it in no time at all! Everything will be back to normal in just a short time!"_

 _Ludwig didn't believe those obvious lies. Roderich had been locked away in his room for several days now, only allowing his siblings and Elizabeta to come in. The three of them wouldn't tell the younger ones anything, except that Roderich was sick and needed time to rest. And of course they all reassured them that Roderich was perfectly fine and there was no reason to get so concerned._

 _But anyone with any sense in them could realize the Austrian was not fine. Ludwig's room was right next to Roderich's, separated only by a thin wall. At night he could hear the man's feverish rambling, on and off about something breaking up. And he sometimes woke up screaming in pain, which in turn startled Ludwig awake. Oh, God, how he screamed. If Ludwig didn't trust his brother as much as he did, he would think Gilbert was murdering Roderich. Sometimes Ludwig really did think Gilbert was cutting the Austrian open. This wasn't just some normal sickness. It had to be something more than that, since no illness that Ludwig ever heard of put someone in that much agony._

 _"Well, what would you two like to do now?" Lilli said, tucking the book under her arm. She walked over to the bookcase, her golden braids swaying gently with each step._

 _"Why don't we –" Ludwig started to suggest that they go adventuring in the forest, but he was interrupted by a loud cry of pain from Roderich. It was enough to make a shiver run up his spine, and it made Lilli jump and drop the poetry book._

 _"Basch! Go get a doctor, and hurry!" Elizabeta ordered, sounding much more frantic than typical of the Hungarian._

 _Curious and somewhat terrified, Ludwig got up and peeked out of the library's doorway. He got there in time to see Basch bolt down the stairs, pulling on a coat as he ran. Lilli brushed past Ludwig, running over to the Swiss._

 _"What's happening?" Lilli asked, her voice panicky._

 _"I can't say," Basch answered. "Listen, you have to keep the two little ones out of there. I am dead serious. If they see…" Basch fell short, noticing Ludwig standing just outside of the library's entrance._

 _"What?" Ludwig said, marching up to Basch. He hadn't realized how tall Basch truly was until he was this close. Next to Roderich, Basch looked small. But now that he and Ludwig were face to face, he didn't seem all that tiny. The man towered over him, looking down on the boy with glaring green eyes. Feeling quite scared all of a sudden, Ludwig took a few steps back. "Why…why can't we see?" He choked._

 _"Little kids aren't supposed to see some things. You'll be a good boy and stay away, alright?" Basch snarled, buttoning up his coat._

 _"Is Mr. Austria going to die?" Feli asked, coming over to Ludwig's side._

 _"Good heavens, Feli! Didn't we just talk about this?" Lilli scolded. "He will be just fine. Right, Basch?"_

 _Basch chewed on his lip, searching for the right words to use. "Let's put it this way," he said. "Roderich is not doing too good right now and could possibly end up dead. So no, he's not definitely going to die, but he's not definitely going to live. Lilli,_ it's _happening."_

 _"You can't be serious." Lilli put a hand over her mouth, all colour drained from her face._

 _"Sorry, but I have to go. Keep those two busy for me, alright? I'll be back as fast as possible." Basch ran from the house, slamming the door as he went outside._

 _It took a very long time for someone to say something. The three of them just stood there in shock, all very worried that Roderich could actually die. Ludwig couldn't imagine a house without Roderich. Sure, he generally irritated everyone and was a stuck up brat, but he kept the house in order and kept Gilbert in line. Without the Austrian, everything would be chaotic. And Ludwig loved him. He couldn't bear to see the man who was his father of sorts die._

 _"Why don't we go make dinner for Basch and the others?" Lilli suggested weakly, still looking very pale._

 _"Alright," Feli said. "Can we make pasta?"_

 _"Sure. Whatever you would like, we can make."_

 _Lilli lead the two of them off towards the kitchen, holding their hands tightly to ensure that they didn't try to make a break for it._

 _The three of them spent some time preparing dinner, Lilli following Feli's instructions on how to make the perfect rigatoni. Ludwig pretended like he wasn't interested in helping and sat in the corner, but he was really trying to come up with an escape plan. He had a right to know what was wrong with Roderich. No one was going to keep him from that, and definitely not the weak little Lilli._

 _He just had to wait for the right time._

 _And it finally came. Lilli turned her back for just a moment to stir the pasta and Ludwig silently slid off his stool and went out the door. As fast as he could possibly run while still being quiet, Ludwig raced for Roderich's room. He was almost there when Lilli must've realized that he was gone, because she started to shout._

 _"Ludwig?! Get back here right now!" She yelled. This startled Ludwig more than anything had today, because Lilli didn't get angry,_ ever _. But now she stomped out of the kitchen, her face red with fury. She spotted Ludwig with ease, as he was at the top of the stairs. "I said get over here!"_

 _"No!" Ludwig shouted back, running over to Roderich's bedroom. The man was still screaming, while Elizabeta and Gilbert trying their best to comfort him._

 _"Do not make me use your full name!"_

 _"That won't stop anything!" Ludwig put his hand on the doorknob, ready to burst in._

 _"That's it! Holy…" she started._

 _Ludwig froze. A wide smile split his face, because he_ remembered. _Ivan said that word and Basch tried to kill him. But Basch wasn't here to stop him now. He could get the whole name now and nobody was there to lie to his face or get in the way._

 _"Say it!" Ludwig beamed, leaning against the door. "Use my whole name!"_

 _Before Lilli could answer, the door was thrown open and Ludwig fell backwards. He looked up to meet a furious Gilbert, who pulled the boy upright._

 _"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" He roared, grabbing Ludwig's face._

 _"I just came to see what was wrong with Roderich!" Ludwig cried, pulling at Gilbert's hands._

 _Gilbert sighed loudly, letting the boy go. "You can't. Now go back downstairs."_

 _"But why can't I?"_

 _"Because he's delirious and might say something that would scare you," Gilbert answered flatly, turning his back to his brother to block his view. "Now leave."_

 _"But I should see! He's my family too!" Ludwig whined. He had to get through. If Roderich was really out of it, then Ludwig might be able to pry some information out of him without any resistance._

 _"Let the child see me," Roderich groaned. Ludwig mentally started cheering, as the Austrian had just given him the keys to the mystery surrounding the dreams. All that was left to do was start asking questions._

 _"Do I follow that?" Gilbert asked Elizabeta slowly._

 _"I…I guess."_

 _Gilbert stepped out of the way, letting Ludwig through. The boy went over to Roderich's bedside, ignoring the glares he was getting from Elizabeta and Gilbert._

 _The Austrian looked much worse than Ludwig thought he would. His dark hair was a mess, stuck to his forehead with sweat, and his face was flushed red from the fever. Dark circles hung under his tired eyes, and he'd obviously been crying at some point. Strange red lines ran down from the corners of his mouth, tracing down his neck and disappearing into the collar of his nightshirt._

 _It took Ludwig a moment to realize the red lines were blood._ Fresh blood.

 _"Oh, my God, are you…?" Ludwig couldn't bear to finish his sentence. The poor man looked like he was going to die at any moment._

 _"It's just what happens when things start to fall apart…like with you and the pain. You'll learn soon enough. My country…it's going to hell," Roderich said, motioning for Ludwig to come up on the bed with him. Carefully, so he wouldn't put Roderich in any more pain, Ludwig climbed up next to him._

 _"Don't worry about me," Roderich wrapped his arms around Ludwig, pulling him into a tight hug. He seemed so desperate, holding the boy so close that Ludwig could hear his heartbeat and he could feel the fever's warmth. It was quite strange for Roderich to suddenly be so emotional, almost like he really was going to die in the next few minutes. "You should be worried 'bout yourself. You're…going to die soon. He's coming for you. They're all coming…to tear you apart. You have to…fight back. Don't fail me. I raised you…to be better than them."_

 _"What are you talking about?" Ludwig asked, looking up at Roderich._

 _"The empire. It's collapsing…and if it's no more…than you'll be no more." He smiled down at Ludwig sleepily._

 _Ludwig tried to put all the pieces together quickly, wondering what questions he should ask first. It didn't look like he had much time. There was an empire, he was going to die, said empire was collapsing, someone was coming to tear a young boy apart, and Feli somehow fell into this mess. Where was he ever going to start?_

 _Figuring that it was the best question to start with, Ludwig asked, "What's my full name?"_

 _"Full name?" Roderich echoed like they were new words to him. "Your real name or…human name?"_

 _"My real name, please."_

 _Roderich sighed, running a hand through Ludwig's blond hair. "Why are you so concerned…about this all of the sudden? Holy Ro…"_

 _His eyes gently closed and the desperate grip on Ludwig loosened._

 _Ludwig looked at Roderich for a moment, wondering if he really was dead. No, he couldn't be. If this was only a memory, then he had to be alive. Unless, of course, the Roderich he knew in the present was a ghost. Just to be on the safe side, Ludwig pressed his ear to Roderich's chest. Thankfully, there was a heartbeat, although it was quite faint and erratic. Definitely not healthy at all._

 _"You need to leave now, Ludwig," Elizabeta said gently, picking the boy up. She carried him out of the room, putting him down in the hall._

 _"He'll be okay, right?" Ludwig asked._

 _"What does okay mean? Is that some word you children made up?"_

 _"Right. Okay wasn't a real word until World War Two," Ludwig sighed. "He will be alright, right?"_

 _Elizabeta got down on her knees, looking into Ludwig's eyes. "I promise you he'll be just fine."_

 _"Good. And can you tell me my full name?"_

 _"It's not the time for that. I have to go and help your brother now. You be a good boy, you hear? Don't get into too much trouble with Toris, but give him hell. Make sure to get enough sleep, watch out for your brothers, and keep yourself safe," she said, putting her hands on the boy's shoulders. "And would you tell Roderich I love him? I'm really trying my best to visit him, but dreams don't work that way." She gave Ludwig a knowing smile, standing up to go back into the room._

 _"I will…wait, did you say Toris?" Ludwig gasped. "Oh, my God, you_ know. _You're…you're from the present too! Is this the afterlife or something for you? Shit, does that mean I'm dying too? Am I already dead?_ " _He grabbed at Elizabeta's skirt, trying to stop her. "Please tell me I'm not dead! I can't be dead yet!"_

 _Elizabeta grinned, ruffling Ludwig's hair. "I can't tell you much more now. Good night, Ludwig. I love you."_

* * *

Ludwig put the final tally on the wall, bringing up the total to twenty. Today Gilbert and Roderich were supposed to come back. He'd been counting the days since their imprisonment, hoping to work some more information out of the two. Basch had already proven worthless in the question department, as every answer was now "shut up." Roderich and Gilbert could possibly be a bit looser with the questions. And he did have a bit of an upper hand with Roderich, since he could presumably make contact with Elizabeta.

The only real advantage he'd had so far with the two being absent was that he could look through Gilbert's diary for clues without anyone to stop him. But his brother must've expected Ludwig to do something like that, because there wasn't a thing about the dreams. No, all the entries were about foolish things. Not a word was written about Ludwig's strange behaviour.

"I'm back!" Gilbert announced loudly, walking into the cell house. Toris rolled his eyes, dragging Roderich inside with him. He struggled against Toris' hold, pulling at his hand. The Austrian was already in uncooperative mode, and it wasn't even time for roll call yet.

"Thank God!" Ivan replied sarcastically. "We really missed you."

"Oh, shut it. You love me and you know it," Gilbert stuck his tongue out at the Russian.

"Not as much as he loves Yao," Basch snarled.

Ivan turned away from Gilbert to glare Basch down. "Okay, you little brat, I am so done with you. I don't know why you hate me, but I am about to kill you in your sleep."

"Go for it!" The Swiss shouted back. "I would love to see you try!"

"I will! One morning you're going to wake up with a big, long, slice all the way across your pretty little neck," Ivan said dramatically, running a finger across his scarred neck. "And I'll be standing over you with a knife dripping with your own blood. How does that sound?"

"Great! But you're forgetting one crucial detail here. _I'm going to kill you first._ And it's going to be as painful as possible. First I'll cut open your chest, and then I'll poison you, or maybe I'll burn you, perhaps after that I'll pull out your fingernails one by one, I'll definitely mess with your radiation poisoning on your leg, and then for the grand finale I'll smash your skull open. Oh, and of course, Yao would have to watch all of this. Doesn't that sound lovely?" Basch smiled deviously, clapping his hands together.

"Will you two stop? No one is going to kill anyone, okay?" Toris groaned, unlocking the cells.

"Oh, I think Roderich will be happy to join me in Ivan's murder after he learns about what the bastard told Ludwig," Basch went over to Roderich and whispered something in his ear.

"He said _what?"_ Roderich hissed, looking over at Ivan. The Russian shrugged, acting like he had no clue what he said.

Roderich stomped over to Ivan, grabbing the collar of his shirt. "Don't you _ever_ say a thing about that again! Do you understand, or do I need to talk slower for you?!"

"I understand just fine," Ivan huffed, pulling away from Roderich. "But I don't understand why you just can't tell him. You know, my siblings may be cruel and hate me, but at least they won't lie to my face."

"It's for his own good," Gilbert growled.

"Oh, yes, ' _his own good.'_ I've never heard of lies being good for someone, da? In my country, lying was viewed as a terrible thing to do, but maybe it's different with the _'not backwards'_ countries."

"Will you stop talking like I'm not here?" Ludwig asked. "I know what you're talking about."

"No, you don't," Basch snapped.

"Yes I do."

 _"No, you don't,"_ Roderich snarled, giving Ludwig a furious glare.

"For the last time, I do. You're fighting about all those things I keep trying to talk to you about. And guess what? You can't stop me from dreaming! Eventually I will figure this entire thing out, and there isn't a thing you can do about it!" Ludwig said triumphantly.

"If I have to keep you up all night," Gilbert barked, "I will."

"Right," Ludwig rolled his eyes, pushing past his brother. "You know, Ivan has a great point. His siblings may be crazy and hate him, but I'd rather have that than brothers who lie straight to my face."

* * *

Toris kept the six pretty much separated now. They were all sent to different corners of the camp, allowing as much space between them as possible. Roderich eventually apologized for his behaviour, but not without a few more arguments over this HRE person. Of course, Ludwig wasn't allowed to listen to these. And on the rare occasion that he could listen to one, it was all in code or ancient languages.

There was always watchful eye on them, as Toris had a guard stationed outside of their cell house. The only problem with the guard was he too enjoyed gambling, and would often play cards with them. He didn't speak much of any other language but Polish, but when he did say something in English or German it was strictly to cuss the others out. Their games got quite interesting with the guard, usually ending in a screaming match between him and one of the other nations while Ivan translated the guard's Polish for whoever was getting screamed at.

The only time there wasn't anyone actually watching them was after ten, when they were presumed to be asleep. Their guard just sort of gave up watching by then, and went off to who-knows-where. So Ludwig, Gilbert, Basch, Ivan, Yao, and Roderich would stay up late into the night after he left, sharing stories, food, and escape plans.

God, how they wanted to escape.

Most of the time, they couldn't get much farther than the cell house with their plans. There was always a tiny miscalculation in the plans, or someone screwed something up. This lead to lots of anger towards the person who messed everything up, who was already ashamed of themselves for ruining the plans. The only reward for their efforts was a thrashing and the fleeting hope that the next plan would work.

"This is never going to work," Gilbert groaned after yet another failed escape. He was sitting on the floor with his arm through the bars, trying to hit Roderich by throwing gravel at him. This was a favorite pastime of the Prussian, since it involved making Roderich mad – another thing he loved to do.

"The main problem is none of us ever get the keys. Have any of you ever tried to break out of a prison?" Basch added. He pulled a razor blade from his pocket that Yao had stolen and mistakenly given to Basch as a birthday present of sorts. Thankfully he'd been using it to cut his hair and shave, occasionally allowing someone other than him to use it, and not using it to cut people up in their sleep. With a flick of his wrist he threw it at Gilbert, barely missing the man.

"I'm concerned about what you have done in your life." Ludwig looked at the Swiss, who was laughing about how he scared Gilbert.

"But we'd have to get Feliks' keys. Only his unlock the gates." Ivan said, ignoring the bit about breaking out of prison.

Gilbert threw another gravel chunk, pushing Basch away from him. "So, say we do get the keys. Then what? We still have our little Polish friend to get past. Unless we leave after he goes off to wherever land," He nodded towards where the guard usually stood.

"I got it!" Ludwig exclaimed. "Look at Basch and tell me he doesn't look like Feliks if we pull his hair back."

Basch pointed the razor blade at Ludwig. "You watch yourself. I won't hesitate to cut you. And remember, we sleep in the same cell."

"There's no use in denying it," Roderich said. "After all, you're both very short."

"Thanks," Basch huffed.

"It's not my fault you're _'sizely challenged,'_ as you say."

"Just like it's not my fault you're such a bitch."

"Anyway," Ludwig loudly interrupted the two before it got any worse. "All humor aside, they do look strikingly similar. So, Ivan could get Feliks' coat and hat, plus the keys. We can dress Basch up and hide him somewhere."

"And then when Basch goes to unlock all of the cells, it'll look like Feliks is taking us out to kill us," Ivan finished Ludwig's thought.

"But we need Basch to be somewhere else. Because we have Basch as Feliks," Yao rubbed his eyes, struggling to stay awake.

"So, we can say he's super sick or something. Put Ivan's bag under his sheets so it'll look like Basch is sleeping. If Toris falls for it, great, we've already established that he's a complete idiot. But if he doesn't, then he'll go on a manhunt for Basch, not wanting to lose a representative of Switzerland. Either way, he'll be distracted. Basch comes out of his hiding spot when night comes, and we're gone by the morning."" Gilbert added, throwing another rock at Roderich. A cry of pain a moment later told him that he'd finally gotten a hit.

"Score!" Gilbert cheered, picking up a rock he used as chalk. He marked another tally on the wall. Some time ago, he had begun counting how many times he hit Roderich with something, and the count was now up to 146.

"Who's going to be in charge of all of this?" Basch asked. "I mean, we need someone to organize everything and make sure it runs smoothly."

"I think Gilbert should be in charge. He seems like a good liar," Ivan said smugly.

"I hate to agree, but I think he's probably our best choice. Other than Ludwig," Roderich sighed.

"Luddy here isn't leader material." Gilbert said, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. "But I'll be happy to be the leader. And Ivan, thank you for telling me I'm a good liar."

"Are you sure you can handle it?" Yao raised an eyebrow.

"Positive."

"Then it's set," Ludwig pushed Gilbert's hand off of him. "He'll be the leader."

* * *

 **A/N: Merry Christmas!  
**

 **Before you start asking, yes, I do have a life. But when you get to my age, you don't exactly get a bunch of toys and things to play with. So I figured I would just post a chapter as a little Christmas gift to you lovely people!**

 **Yes, the title of this chapter is a Mumford and Sons song, because I can do it and no one is here to stop me!**

 **If you noticed, there's an extra long dream to make up for the lack of dreams in the past two chapters. And the author of the poem at the beginning is Goethe, said poem being titled "Der Erlkönig." Rather grim poem, is it not? And everyone has a little bit different translation of the poem, so please don't criticize me for my word choice.  
**

 **Thank you to** Nephele Nilfhain **,** Electra-Pandora **,** Comix and Co **,** Le Cinnamon Bun **! You guys made my Christmas!**

 **I hope all of you had a lovely Christmas, or Hanukkah, or whatever you celebrate!**

 **See you all next chapter!**


	17. Horrible Liar

Five in the morning, two days later. Toris came and unlocked all of the cells, holding a cup of coffee. He didn't even seem remotely interested in any of them today – which was a good thing – as he just rolled his eyes at a few snide remarks and left.

Once they were sure the Lithuanian was out of earshot, they set the plan into motion. After placing Ivan's bag under Basch's blanket, Gilbert ran over the list he had made to make sure everything was in order. Basch was already in Feliks' coat and hat, ready to hide. They had accidentally found a bottle of some kind of pills when Ivan stole the coat and hat, tucked neatly away in a pocket on the inside of the coat. After a little investigation and Roderich's unknowing help, they determined the mysterious pills were designed to induce sleep, and rather quickly at that. And the only side effect was an Austrian that wasn't very pleased to learn he'd been drugged. So it was planned to use them on their guard if he didn't disappear.

The only piece to the plan missing was the keys.

This was their riskiest plan yet, as it involved taking several things from Feliks. Feliks would be furious about the keys, but if he caught Basch in his coat, he'd instantly have him killed. The Pole didn't really have his priorities in order. Still, each scenario ended in a bad outcome for the Swiss, most likely death.

Ludwig was the first to step outside, his heart hammering. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down. All through roll call he rehearsed his lines, trying to prepare different answers to things Toris could react with. Why did he have to get stuck with the job of lying to Toris? Didn't they all know Ludwig was a terrible liar? He couldn't make it through a tiny little white lie without stuttering or completely giving himself away.

At first he was thankful for the hour or so that roll call provided him, but he found himself wishing it would end faster so he could get through it all faster. Of course there were people missing. Because the one time Ludwig actually wanted roll call to end faster, someone decided that they weren't going to show up. Finally, everyone was accounted for and they were all given their work details. Ludwig walked over to Toris, his Iron Cross thumping against his chest. He was talking to a guard, giving them fast instructions in Polish.

"Toris?" Ludwig called, his voice shaky from nerves. The Lithuanian turned to face him, revealing just who the guard was. Sergeant Kaczka, the man who tried to slit Ludwig's throat during their initiation. Ludwig didn't want to think about the blade at his neck again, and he definitely did _not_ want to try lying while that man watched him. And by the looks of it, Sergeant Kaczka didn't want to be anywhere near Ludwig.

"What do you want?" He growled.

"Basch is really sick," Ludwig was mentally having a meltdown. Could Toris see right through his façade? If he couldn't, then Sergeant Kaczka could. He could see it in the man's cruel eyes – he knew just by looking at Ludwig that something was up. "We think he might die today."

"He seemed fine last night. And I don't recall giving him the radium." Toris sipped his coffee calmly.

Ludwig wasn't prepared for that response. Quickly he tried to improvise something, trying to remember one of the incidences where Basch had been taken away in the night. Thankfully he had a lot of choices, as Basch wasn't exactly the good child of the group. "You gave it to him a few weeks ago… when he refused to stop screaming death threats at one of the guards. And you took him away that night, so you were probably drunk. He's…been trying to look strong. Doesn't want us to worry about him. But we couldn't even wake him up this morning."

Toris raised an eyebrow. "Really? I'll check on him later. But now, I want you cleaning Feliks' office."

"But that's Ivan's assignment. I'm supposed to-" Ludwig started.

"Then I'll give Ivan your assignment. Now go." He shooed Ludwig off. Sergeant Kaczka said something in Polish that made Toris laugh, probably about Ludwig's obvious failure at lying.

" _Wiem. Nie jestem idiotą. Ale ten drań jest,"_ Toris replied happily.

It angered Ludwig to know that they were talking about him behind his back, but that wasn't the German's biggest worry right now. Ludwig had to find Ivan immediately. If he didn't, they would never get the keys, and Basch would end up dead, for real.

For a few minutes, Ludwig walked around the camp, trying to find Ivan. He wasn't too hard to miss, easily being one of the tallest people here. So why couldn't Ludwig find him? Why was today, of all days, going against him?

"Comrade!" Ivan called, running up behind Ludwig. "Toris just told me. You'll need this." He handed Ludwig a large pouch, which he presumed was for the keys.

"Thank you," Ludwig said, shoving the pouch in his pocket.

"No trouble." Ivan's voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "The keys are in a vase full of candy on the second floor. They should be on a bookshelf. Slip it into the guard's belt and Yao can pickpocket him later, da?"

"Then what was that you just gave me for?"

Ivan gave him that irritating child like smile. "If you can't work around the guard, put him to sleep. Try not to, though, unless you're running out of time or it's an emergency."

"Got it," Ludwig nodded, wondering if he could actually put a guard to sleep without being caught.

As Ludwig watched Ivan run off, his heart began pounding again. How was he ever going to pull this off?

* * *

"Hey, baby!" Feliks greeted him as he stepped into the office. "I'm like, so glad you're here instead of Potato-Nose."

"Are you referring to Ivan?" Ludwig asked warily, watching Feliks stuff a bag full of weapons and radium injections.

Only then did he realize that a certain someone was joining the two in the room. Sergeant Kaczka smiled at Ludwig, but it wasn't a friendly gesture. It was more of an "I'm going to enjoy shooting you when he leaves," smile.

"Like, who else?" Feliks grinned. "So, anyway, you'll be my maid today. He," Feliks motioned to the grinning sergeant. "Will be watching you. I want this place perfect. Don't answer my phone, and there's a note on the desk telling you where to clean and stuff like that. If I get a report of anything wrong, I'll like, have your fingers cut off. Okay?"

Ludwig nodded, wondering how badly he needed fingers. Because if the sergeant was in charge, Ludwig likely wouldn't have any left.

"Well then, I'm off. I'm going to visit IKEA dude today." Feliks grabbed his bag, turning to leave.

"You mean Berwald? Are you going to kill him?" Ludwig said worriedly. Sure, he didn't really care for the Swede, but he didn't think the man deserved to die.

"You're so funny!" Feliks chirped. "All that stuff is for if he resists, or like, tries anything. So, like, he could end up dead. But I'm not going to walk in there and make sure the creep is dead before I leave. Anyway, I'll see you later!" And he strutted out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

"You," Kaczka growled, walking over to Ludwig. He was just a bit shorter than Ludwig, but he won in the intimidation competition, courtesy of the semi-automatic rifle slung over his shoulder. "I dare you to try something. I have orders to shoot on sight."

"I'm not stupid."

Kaczka smirked at that remark. "I think you are. You seem dumb enough to charge a fully armed sergeant and lie straight to Laurinaitis."

 _Oh, shit, he knows I was lying. Damn it, did I just blow the whole plan for everyone? They're never going to let me live this up! That is, if I live! He'll probably kill me –_

"Now, would you like to start cleaning, kraut?" He folded his arms, looking up at Ludwig expectantly.

"Don't call me that," Ludwig pushed past the sergeant, walking over to the desk. He picked up the handwritten note, which told Ludwig where everything was and where to clean. It specifically stated not to clean the office on the second floor, as that was off limits.

How dense could Feliks be? He was practically giving away hints like candy.

"Listen, kraut, I have a date tonight. So don't you dare take all day to do your stupid cleaning."

"I said," Ludwig barked, turning to face him. "Do _not_ call me kraut."

"I will call you what I want here, kraut!" Kaczka beamed.

 _Oh, my God,_ Ludwig mentally snarled. _I'm going to kill him. I am so going to kill him. I'll just wait for him to turn his back, then grab a knife and slit his throat. Oh, but then there would be blood everywhere. I'd hate to make a huge mess. How easy is it to clean blood out of carpets? Or perhaps I sho –_

"Get moving!" Kaczka snapped, prodding at Ludwig with his gun.

"I'm going!" Ludwig shot back. "You don't need to kill me!"

Unfortunately, Sergeant Kaczka was much more attentive than any other guard by far. Perhaps it stemmed from his unreasonable hatred for Ludwig, but he didn't let the German out of his sight once. Ludwig wouldn't have minded that at all, except Kaczka enjoyed making crude comments about things Ludwig would rather not remember about WWII and would only address him as "kraut." After what seemed like the four hundredth Nazi joke, Ludwig decided that he was going to put Kaczka to sleep. Sure, it wasn't an absolute emergency, and he definitely could work around the snarky sergeant, but Ludwig didn't want to hear another word out of that disgusting man.

Now, if he could only figure out how to slip Kaczka the pills.

His first and rather brutish thought was to just take a handful of the capsules and force the sergeant to swallow them. But that would end in a struggle, and Kaczka would probably remember that when he woke up. The easiest possible way would be to dissolve them in his drink, but Kaczka wasn't drinking anything at the moment and would be rather suspicious if Ludwig suddenly offered him something to drink.

 _Unless,_ Ludwig thought. _I found something alcoholic. The man seems like he would be a drunk anyways. And if he got suspicious and asked me to test it, I could probably withstand the medicine. However, I am running the risk of both of us passing out. Is it worth that? There doesn't really seem to be a choice anymore. It's either I drug the sergeant and run that risk and we possibly escape, or I don't get the keys and Basch dies._

 _Well, Basch's death is pretty tempting._

With the sergeant right on his heels, Ludwig calmly strode into the kitchen. While the man leaned against the wall, Ludwig began searching the fridge. For once that day, something was going right. Right in the door was a bottle of vodka, claimed by Toris with a strip of duct tape bearing his name. Surely the Lithuanian wouldn't mind if Ludwig stole a little bit. It was for a good cause, after all. Slowly he picked it up, making sure it made noise to alert the sergeant.

"Kraut, what're you doing?" Kaczka asked, leaning over to see Ludwig behind the fridge door.

"I'm cleaning the fridge. What do you think I'm doing?" Ludwig answered, trying to sound a bit suspicious but not make it painfully obvious.

Kaczka walked over to Ludwig, spotting the vodka bottle in the blond's hands. He immediately took it from him, holding the glass bottle out so Ludwig couldn't reach it. "I ought to shoot you right now, kraut. Just couldn't control your lust for alcohol, could you?"

"I…I…it's not what it looks like?" Ludwig faked a smile.

"Oh, _it's not what it looks like_? Well, then, if you're not really just a drunkard and this isn't what it looks like, you won't mind pouring me a glass, _would you_?" Kaczka raised an eyebrow, giving Ludwig an impish grin.

 _You are such a fool, Sergeant Kaczka. Such a fool. My country would never let an idiot like you become a sergeant._

"Doesn't that seem a bit cruel? Please, can't you do it yourself?" Ludwig pleaded. He was making quite the effort to sell his story, pretending like he actually liked vodka. In reality he hated the burning liquid and would be more than happy to never drink it again.

"I'll give you two choices," he said, pulling a glass down from the cabinet and slamming it on the counter. "You can either pour that for me, or I can shoot you. Which seems more cruel to you, kraut?"

"Won't Toris be angry with you? I mean, this is clearly his."

"Angry? With me? I think he'd be madder at you than me," Kaczka laughed, motioning for Ludwig to hurry up.

"Shouldn't you at least call him and ask if it's okay?"

"Why? So you can slip something into my drink and kill me?" Kaczka smiled. His eyes lit up like he got a genius idea. "You know what, I will go call him and ask." He left the kitchen, giving Ludwig the perfect opportunity to put the sleeping pills in. With shaky fingers he opened two of the capsules, dumped them in the glass, poured a lot more vodka than one man on guard duty needed – but hey, who was really measuring this stuff – and threw the evidence and the rest of the capsules in the trash.

 _"Tak…on próbuje otruć mnie teraz…"_ Kaczka said from the other room, talking in a low voice. _"Mogę wykorzystać niektóre z wódką? …Nie, proszę pana, ja nie próbuje dostać darmowego drinka… Tak, proszę pana. Dziękuję. Do widzenia. Aha, i co mam zrobić, gdy … przeciągnij go na dół? Ja chcę, proszę pana."_

Kaczka returned, walking right up to Ludwig with that annoying smile of his. Ludwig was going to be all too excited to watch that smile disappear. "Now, kraut," he said, handing the glass to Ludwig. "You're going to drink this."

"Oh, no, I couldn't possibly do that." Ludwig pushed the cup away from him, trying to act anxious. This wasn't really hard for him, as he was already very nervous about being found out.

"Oh, _yes_ , you possibly could! _Drink it_!"

With a bit of an uneasy look, Ludwig took the glass from Kaczka and slowly sipped it. Immediately he wanted to throw up, the horrid, burning taste filling his mouth.

"More," Kaczka growled, grabbing his knife from his belt loop. He pressed the blade flat to Ludwig's forearm, threatening to cut him if he didn't drink more of the repulsive stuff. _This would be a much more effective system than torturing us,_ Ludwig thought. _Toris could just have us drink a few glasses of vodka and that would teach us a lesson much better than whips and knives._

Oh, God, how it burned. Ludwig couldn't even imagine drinking this every day like Ivan – that bear of a man must have a _terrible_ sense of taste. Something was very wrong with him if he thought that this nauseating drink was actually good. Being in Russia for so long must drive someone to such points of insanity where you think something that sets your throat aflame is delicious.

And to make vodka matters worse, Ludwig was starting to feel drowsy. The drugs were already kicking in, making his vision blurred around the edges. If they were strong enough to do this to Ludwig, Kaczka would be out in a minute. That is, if the German didn't black out first.

"Okay! That's enough!" Kaczka tore the glass out of Ludwig's hands, putting his knife back. Ludwig's first reaction was to spit out the vodka in the sink, but then the sergeant would be even more suspicious. So he was required to swallow it, and finally the last of the sickening stuff was gone. He shook the blurriness from his eyes, trying not to start retching.

"Now, get back to work, kraut," the sergeant ordered, taking a giant gulp of the vodka. "Guess you Nazis aren't all that bad. Least one of you has the decency to pour a man a drink and not kill him."

"Yes, sir," Ludwig did a mock salute, gritting his teeth. If he hated being called a kraut, being called a Nazi pushed it completely over the edge.

* * *

Some time later while Ludwig was washing the windows in the front room, Kaczka fell onto the couch and didn't get back up. Ludwig gave him a minute or so for good measures, then went over to the sleeping man and poked him a few times. He took his gun from him and pointed it at the man's face as another test of sorts, bouncing his finger on the trigger.

"Looks like you can't trust the Nazis after all, can you?" He growled in Kaczka's ear to be sure the man was asleep. Thankfully, he didn't retort with anything, and Ludwig could actually get to work.

Before he began anything, he did a fast check for cameras or recording devices. Much to his surprise, he found nothing more than a few hidden microphones. Unless Eduard had done a perfect job of hiding the cameras, there wasn't anything there to catch him in the act. Part of him wondered if Eduard did this intentionally. He seemed to be much nicer than Toris or Feliks, but only when he wasn't being watched. The Estonian refused to severely punish people and let prisoners get away with a lot more things.

Turning away from thoughts of Eduard, Ludwig's first order of business as a thief was to find the keys. He walked cautiously up to the second floor, closing all of the curtains. There was going to be no slip ups this time. Every second was nerve wracking, as he feared Kaczka would suddenly wake up and storm upstairs.

Once he actually got calmed down a bit, he started to look around the room. There, sitting on the top of the shelf, was a white vase full of some type of candy. It was the only vase with candy in it, so the keys had to be there. However, it was much too high for Ludwig to reach.

Unfortunately, the only thing to stand on was a desk chair, the kind that spins. Swaying from side to side with every little movement, Ludwig somehow balanced himself and dug through the vase. Now he was even more terrified – if Kaczka came upstairs there would be no explanation or sweet-talking his way out of it.

"Hello? Is anyone here?" Raivis called out, opening the office door. He yelped, presumably seeing the sergeant's body crumpled on the couch. "Toris?! Eduard?! Listen, there is a dead man – never mind, he's breathing! Will someone tell me why this man is here?"

Ludwig scrambled off the chair, pushing it back over to the table. He wasn't expecting anyone to come in, especially not Raivis. Somehow he was going to have to talk his way out of this. Hopefully Raivis was still the same sweet young boy he'd been on the long walk to camp.

"I can hear you moving. Is this some kind of joke? Eduard, if that's you, it's not funny," Raivis said, marching up the stairs.

Trying to appear like he was just cleaning, Ludwig grabbed a nearby cloth and started wiping at the table. He was positive anyone could see right through his act – his hands were trembling violently and he knew he was breathing way too fast to pull off as normal. But hell, he was _scared._

"Mr. Germany? Why are you cleaning in the dark?" Raivis asked. _Shit, I forgot to turn on the lights!_ Ludwig mentally cursed. _I have to think fast…_

"Because I…like it this way?" _Oh, way to go, Ludwig. You probably just secured your own death!_

"Normally, when people are acting suspicious in a dark room like this, they're trying to steal something." Raivis grabbed a stack of papers off of a file cabinet, brushing his honey curls out of his eyes.

"Why would I do that?" Ludwig laughed nervously.

"Don't know," Raivis shrugged. "Even if you were, I wouldn't have told them. I really don't care what happens to Mr. Poland's things." He walked back downstairs, humming a little song to himself.

"Oh, and if I were you, I'd put that chair back on the left side of the table, exactly in the center. Mr. Poland doesn't like it when things have been moved. And by the way, do you know what happened to that man on the couch?" Raivis called back up the stairs.

"He got into Toris' vodka, I think. I don't know much more than that."

"M'kay. Well, don't run off or anything. I doubt you would, and I wouldn't stop you, but the others would get quite mad."

"Will do," Ludwig said, smiling as he heard the door shut.

Once again, he stood on the wobbly chair, searching through the vase. Finally, he found the keys amid the candies. Or rather, he felt them. As he removed the keys from the candy, he was startled by a loud horse whinny.

So startled, in fact, that he fell out of his chair, landing hard on his back. The keys and several pieces of candy fell on top of him, revealing the source of the noise. It was a little unicorn keychain that made horse noises and lit up when a large button was pressed. He had to hand it to Feliks; the tiny unicorn made an effective alarm system. Anyone trying to steal the keys who didn't know what they were doing was bound to get caught thanks to the small horse.

Grumbling and cursing to himself, Ludwig picked up the keys, put the candy back, and pushed the chair back exactly where it was before. He crept back downstairs, thankful to find Sergeant Kaczka still asleep. Part of him had been terrified that he'd awoken when Ludwig fell, but the Pole was out. Ludwig grabbed the man's belt, shoving the keys in the back pocket.

"Stop it…" the man groaned, turning away from Ludwig. Instantly bolting from the room, Ludwig listened from the kitchen and prayed that the sergeant wasn't waking up. And thankfully, he didn't say anything else. The only sound Ludwig could hear was his own heart pounding.

The rest of his day was uneventful, spent carefully cleaning every room. Each tiny creak and groan of the house made him jump. If Kaczka made a noise, Ludwig watched from the next room. He tried to come up with something to say when the man woke up that wouldn't guarantee a slit throat, eventually deciding that he would pretend he had passed out as well. It was a rather poorly put together idea, but it could work.

While Ludwig made Feliks' bed, he was scared by a loud buzzing. He easily found the culprit, a sparkly pink phone. God, every room in this house had something pink in it. It made Ludwig want to throw up, or perhaps that was from the vodka.

He looked around as if Feliks was in the room with him, remembering his warning to not answer the phone. And Kaczka had been out for quite some time – he was liable to wake up at any minute. Ludwig picked up the phone, checking once again for anything that could catch him in the act.

A message from someone called Liet flashed on the screen, who Ludwig assumed was Toris.

 _"Keep an eye on the countries. They're doing something. Basch missing, out searching for him."_

Toris was onto them. He knew from the very beginning that they were up to something, because Ludwig couldn't lie, and now it would likely cost them their lives, and then Ludwig would never learn the rest of the story about the dreams, and –

 _Slow down. I'm going to be okay. All I have to do is lie, but this time it isn't face to face. See, this'll be much easier._

Ludwig hit reply, trying to type as he thought Feliks would. Which meant typing like a young girl would, but at this point Ludwig didn't care that much.

 _"Already know that. I'm at IKEA dude's, can't do anything."_ Ludwig added a few hearts and smiley faces for good measures, seeing as Feliks seemed to use those a lot.

 _"Okay. I'll see you tonight."_ Damn, Toris was fast.

 _"Love you, baby!"_ A few more hearts and Ludwig slammed the phone down.

A few moments later, the only other person in the house with him started to stir. Ludwig sprinted down the stairs, pretending to be busy with the fireplace.

"What the hell happened?" Sergeant Kaczka groaned, rubbing his eyes.

"Oh, you're awake," Ludwig said, coming over to the man. "You passed out some time ago."

Kaczka was instantly on his feet, knife drawn and ready to cut Ludwig open. "You sly ass kraut! What the hell did you do to me?" He pushed the knife a bit closer so the point was right over Ludwig's heart.

"What, you think _I_ did that to you?" Ludwig asked, holding up his hands to prove he was innocent.

"Well, who else was here, kraut?"

"For your information, I blacked out right after you. There's no need to get so violent." Ludwig pushed the knife away from him, taking a few steps back just to be safe.

The sergeant glared at Ludwig for a long time, trying to put the pieces together. "Why would Laurinaitis do something like that?"

"I don't know, to punish you? Maybe you did something wrong?" Ludwig smiled, walking towards the door.

"Look, he's crazy, but not that crazy." Kaczka ran his fingers through his dark hair, putting that God forsaken knife back in its sheath.

"Well, I'm glad we finally agree on something. Toris being crazy, I mean."

"Kraut, don't you ever say a word about this to anyone. As far as you know, nothing out of the ordinary happened here today," Kaczka said, almost sounding a bit concerned. That surprised Ludwig, as he didn't think this man was capable of human feelings.

"I won't say a thing. But if Toris asks me, I'm going to tell him the whole story," Ludwig smirked, opening up the door.

"Oh, shut up. I'll kill you before you can say anything," Kaczka snapped. "And get over here! Don't think you can just go waltzing out of this place without me searching you!"

 _Too bad I've already hidden what I need._

Sergeant Kaczka was rather rough with his search, punching Ludwig a few times just to make him angry. Thank God he got rid of the other sleeping pills, as the demon would've found them when he brutishly shoved his hands in Ludwig's pockets. And of course, Kaczka couldn't help but throw a few more Nazi jokes into the mix. However, Ludwig wasn't as bothered about them this time. Because they were finally going to escape, and the charming sergeant was helping them get out. If they got caught, Kaczka would be dead along with them.

* * *

 **A/N: Hello!**

 **And now we are back to our regular** **scheduling. The chapter on Christmas Eve was just a little present, I hoped you all enjoyed it.**

 **Is anyone looking for a sister? Because after my sister played "I'm Blue" by Eiffel 65 for the twentieth time today, I've put her up for grabs. She comes with a little too much Hetalia headcanons, an aggressive love for Attack on Titan, and a passion for food. Oh, and she loves annoying music. So prepare yourselves if you want her.**

 **Polish Translations:**

" _Wiem. Nie jestem idiotą. Ale ten drań jest," -_ **I know. I'm not an idiot. But this bastard is.**

 _"Tak…on próbuje otruć mnie teraz…_ _Mogę wykorzystać niektóre z wódką? …Nie, proszę pana, ja nie próbuje dostać darmowego drinka… Tak, proszę pana. Dziękuję. Do widzenia. Aha, i co mam zrobić, gdy … przeciągnij go na dół? Ja chcę, proszę pana." -_ **Yes...he's trying to poison me right now...can I use some of your vodka? ...No, sir, I'm not trying to get a free drink...yes, sir. Thank you. Goodbye. Oh, and what do I do when...drag him downstairs? I will, sir.**

 **Thank you to** wangca **,** Comix and Co **, and** Seele Esser Deutsch **for making my Christmas a fabulous one! I love to hear from you guys!**

 **Hope you all had a wonderful holiday!**

 **See you next chapter!**


	18. Farewell Kisses To All

**A/N: There is a moderate case of what some fangirls may call "yaoi" in this chapter. Just alerting you if it makes you uncomfortable. Full explanation at bottom.**

* * *

"Listen, I'm not asking for too much here. You're being, like, unreasonable."

"I'm bein' unreasonable? Yer asking for me to give up my pride, country, and fam'ly for yer stupid Empire. We don't ev'n speak the same language, let alone have anythin' in common. An' how's that unreasonable?"

Feliks leaned back in his chair, holding his head. He knew Berwald was uncooperative, but he didn't remember the Swede being this stubborn. He was ridiculously inflexible, refusing every offer Feliks made no matter how promising. How long had the two of them been discussing this? Three hours? Maybe four? Either way, it was far too long. This was supposed to be an in and out ordeal – sign the contract and Feliks could go back to Szczecin. But _no_ , Berwald was determined to make Feliks absolutely miserable. All Feliks wanted to do now was curl up someplace warm and fall asleep, not argue with a thick-headed blond. Why didn't he send Toris or Eduard to do this?

"Can't you, like, see it my way? We want to use you and Finland to invade Russia! I just want us to be allies, no more than that," Feliks groaned, running his fingers through his hair.

"So you can kill me?" Berwald said, glaring at Feliks with his stone cold blue eyes. "I know wh't you did to 'Tonio. Yer turnin' on all yer allies. Who's next? Alfred? Francis? No thank you. I prefer to keep myself alive. Those fools can go off an' get killed, but I'm not that r'ckless."

"I'm not going to kill you! I just want to, like, use your land. That's not killing you, is it? C'mon, Swedish Fish, it's just a simple question and the answer should be _simple!_ " Feliks put much more emphasis than he meant to on the word "simple," but he was getting very frustrated. He really wasn't sure how much longer he could hold out before deciding to kill the man.

"'S not helpin' you to call me names and get angry."

"You don't think I already know that?!" Feliks growled, sitting upright. "What's really not helping here is that you're way too stubborn!"

"Can't help it if I know what's right," Berwald said smugly.

Feliks bit his lip, trying to come up with a way to convince Berwald without using the radium. That was saved for last resort. So perhaps he would try some small threatening first. Pulling a map of Europe from his bag, he unfolded it and spread it out over the table.

"Okay, let me put this in terms you can understand," Feliks started, grabbing a black marker from his coat pocket. There were always markers in his pocket, since they tended to be very useful tools. The pink one was his favourite, but that was saved for very special things. He bordered his Empire's territory in black, drawing a smiley face in the middle. "Here's the Empire of Poland-Lithuania – make note of the happy face, because we're nice people and not hell's children as you make us out to be – and here's Sweden," he said, circling the Nordic country.

"'M not that stupid. I think I can recognize my own country," Berwald mumbled, looking at Feliks suspiciously over the rims of his glasses. God, Feliks hated it when people did that. It reminded him of the looks his bosses used to give him when he did something wrong, like lose a battle or chase chickens through the courtyards. The look was something only fathers seemed to be able to pull off, a look used to tell a child they were a screw up without words. Those bitter blue eyes hiding behind glasses brought back many a terrible memory for Feliks of being scolded.

"I'm not done yet. So, if you decide to join with the Empire, Sweden will be happy!" Feliks drew a smiley face over Sweden, adding little glasses for effect. "Everything will be cool and nobody will get hurt. Everyone will be proud to be on the, like, winning side. But," Feliks pulled a red marker from his coat pocket, scribbling over Sweden. "If Sweden refuses, there will be lots of red. And not just in Sweden! We'll spread the red to like, Finland, and Norway, and Denmark, and all of your family! The Empire will bring in tanks and planes and men and _guns_ , and we'll destroy Scandinavia," Feliks coloured all of Northern Europe in, smiling as he did so. "And then the sad little country of Sweden will wish that he'd just allied with the Empire so no one would be dead. The end."

"Threatin' me isn't going to help yer case. 'Specially since yer using markers to try and scare me. I've seen my own kids do more menacin' things w'th marker. What is there fer this _"sad little country of Sw'den"_ if they do ally? More death and pain," Berwald answered his own question, slamming his hands down on the table. "Unlike you, I care 'bout my people. I know what's going to happ'n when you take over. People start disappearin' in the night. People have t' go off to fight for a country they don't ev'n like. An' there'll be propaganda sayin' that we're not losin' the war and makin' the young-ins go off to some foreign country. There'll be short'ges, an' people goin' hungry, an' air raids, an' then more death! Once you get bored with m' country or it isn't doin' what you want it to do, you'll just ship me off like you did to Nor an' I'll never be seen again!" Berwald's voice went an octave higher as he started talking about Lukas, the anger in his eyes shifting to sadness.

 _That's it,_ Feliks said to himself. _I already have leverage over him with Norway! Oh, Feliks, you're a genius! Why, thank you Feliks, I know I am. God, why don't they just award me with something already?_

"Tell you what," Feliks beamed, pulling the contract out of his bag. "I just remembered that I have something that is very precious to you. Would you like to trade? I'll return this thing – alive, might I add, which is a real bonus – and you'll help me in invading Russia. All you have to do is sign a simple contract and talk to your leader. Once we are officially allied, I'll give back that brat."

"Nor isn't a brat. He's my _family_ yer talking 'bout, so watch yer words," Berwald snarled.

"He is a _total_ brat the scientists. Every time they try, like, a new test or something –"

"Tests?! What the hell 'r you doing to Nor?!" Berwald grabbed Feliks by the collar of his shirt, pulling him close. "I swear, if you h'rt him I'm going to _kill_ you right now! What have you done?!"

"Easy! The guy's fine, or at least for now. Just a little experiment here and there, nothing too much. If you, like, don't sign, I will give them the orders to kill. Because if you're not willing to cooperative, then neither am I," Feliks tried to pull himself out of Berwald's grip, but the Swede wasn't letting go.

"I'll sign! You keep Nor al've, and fix whatever you've done to h'm!" Berwald ordered, dropping Feliks' collar. The Pole eagerly handed Berwald the contract, happy he wasn't going to have to use the radium. That stuff was very expensive and he didn't want to pay for any more of it. He didn't just have money to throw out the window.

"I w'nt Nor back immediately. There better not be one scr'tch on him."

"Whatever you want," Feliks said nonchalantly, trying to think of ways to bring a man who was practically dead back to life in a matter of days. Oh, dear, he certainly had a lot of work to do.

* * *

"Is everything alright?" Ludwig asked Gilbert in a hushed voice at dinner. He couldn't help but feel that he'd screwed something up and Basch had already been found out.

"Our little Poland is fine. Don't worry about it," Gilbert smiled. "You did put the keys in the guard's belt, right?"

" _Ja_. Yao, do you know who Sergeant Kaczka is? Dark hair, dark eyes, a bit shorter than me, and he has a huge knife on his belt. He always looks like he wants everyone here to drop dead," Ludwig said, trying to give Yao the most accurate description of the sergeant that he could.

"So he looks a bit like Basch?" Yao asked.

"Well, yes," Ludwig answered, happy Basch wasn't there to start screaming at Yao. Actually, a lot of things were much more pleasant without Basch. "They have the same personality. But Kaczka is much taller."

"He should be easy enough to find," Yao chirped.

After the weak excuse for dinner, the five of them searched for Sergeant Kaczka. It was quite easy, as the moment the sergeant spotted Ludwig, he started screaming Nazi jokes. Ludwig glanced over at Yao, nodding towards the loud man. Yao nodded back, disappearing behind a barrack.

"Hey, kraut, get over here!" Kaczka called, motioning for Ludwig to come closer.

"No, I'm fine right here."

"I _said_ ," Kaczka raised his voice, putting a hand on the hilt of his knife. "Get over here."

Ludwig looked to Gilbert for help, trying to think of an excuse to use to keep as far away as possible from that man.

"I'll go with you if it makes you feel better. If we keep him distracted, then Yao will have a better chance," Gilbert offered, walking in the direction of the sergeant. Ludwig sighed more dramatically than he meant to – looks like he was going to have to suffer through more distasteful jokes for the sake of the escape.

"Is this your friend, kraut?" Kaczka laughed, poking Gilbert in the chest.

"This is my brother."

"Your brother?" Kaczka put a hand over his mouth, laughing uncontrollably. "How the hell did they ever let him into your Nazi army? Isn't he supposed to be one of those blond hair blue eyed cut and pastes? Shit, it looks like you could lose him in a snowstorm! When was the last time you went out in the sun?"

Gilbert looked over at Ludwig, raising an eyebrow in silent question of _"is this man serious?"_ Ludwig nodded and Gilbert rolled his eyes.

"Excuse me, but I'm what you call albino. And when I went to go sign up for this Nazi army, they couldn't find my hair colour on their chart, so the enlister just says, _'hell, put him down as blond!'"_ Gilbert smiled, playing along with the joke. Only Ludwig could recognize the bitter tinge in his brother's voice and the anger in his eyes, since they knew each other so well. Gilbert hated Nazi jokes five times more than Ludwig, barely able to stand event the tamest ones without throwing a huge fit and giving the person a long history lesson. "Same thing goes with my eyes. Officially, I'm a man with blond hair and dark brown eyes. And a rather handsome one at that, don't you think?"

"You didn't tell me you had a funny brother, kraut!" The sergeant said, slapping Ludwig on the back.

"Most of the time I choose to ignore him," Ludwig answered, happening to glance over Kaczka's shoulder. Yao was right behind the man, holding up the keys. He tucked them into his pocket, turning to leave.

Kaczka must've caught Ludwig looking, because he turned around and almost caught Yao, had Gilbert not stepped in.

"You mentioned something about a snowstorm, right?" He asked, putting a hand on Kaczka shoulder. The Pole looked back at Gilbert, letting Yao slip away safely. "Well, this one time my brother and I were up in Minsk, and it was snowing like crazy. I tell Luddy I'm going to go check with our commanding officer and start out into the snow. It was a complete white out, and I got lost. Somehow I ended up behind the Russian lines before I got caught. The dumbasses thought I was a ghost, since I appeared out of nowhere. Just sat there with their little machine guns like, _'shit, what do we do now?'_ Finally one of them got the courage to grab me and marched me right up to their scared leader. I had to stay in one of their prisons until Luddy here came and got me out."

"When were you in Minsk?" Kaczka asked, seeming genuinely interested in Gilbert.

"Oh, you know…" Gilbert glanced over at Ludwig, begging for help. He couldn't answer with the 1940's, because then there would be way too much explaining. "Some time ago. You know how things are when you're fighting; you don't have a clue as to what day it is, never mind year. Anyways, I have to tell you how Luddy helped me escape."

* * *

"What're you doing?" Toris asked, coming into the cell block.

The five of them glanced up at Toris, wondering if this was some kind of joke. Or even worse, he'd found out about their escape plan. Thankfully they hadn't been talking too loudly about plan, so Toris could've only caught a little piece of it. But a little piece was enough to ruin the whole thing.

Yao slid the keys back into his pocket, his eyes giving away how scared he was. He was silently pleading that Toris hadn't seen the keys on the floor.

"We were just talking about stuff," Ivan answered slowly, looking over at Yao. "What are you doing?"

"First of all, Basch isn't here or anywhere I could find him in Szczecin. I suspect you know something about his disappearance."

"What would you say if we said we did know something about where he was?" Roderich said, glancing at Toris.

"There isn't really that much I can do now. So I might yell, but if he's already escaped that isn't really going to help. Figure they'll find him pretty easily though, a tiny man with a big number on his neck seems rather shifty. I have to hand it to you, I have no idea how you got him out of here," Toris sighed, sitting down next to Ivan. He yawned loudly and fell against Ivan's shoulder, much to the Russian's surprise.

"What are you getting at?" Ivan growled, pushing the Lithuanian away.

"I'm lonely and I would like to pretend just for a short time that I'm not your captor and socialize with actual countries like me," Toris confessed quietly, looking down in his lap shamefully.

"Can't you go be lonely somewhere else?" Gilbert suggested. "Feliks could be lonely with you. You could be lonely buddies."

Toris shook his head. "Feliks is just being himself tonight – he's really pissed about something with Berwald. Like, unapproachably pissed. You don't even want to be in the same room with him. Eduard is wrapped up in some book and I'm convinced he doesn't really like me anyways. Raivis is updating the records, which is excruciatingly dull. I would go talk to the guards, but all they care about is women and alcohol and the like. C'mon, I'm just an innocent lonely man."

"Innocent isn't the word I would use. Maybe devious, monstrous, horrible, wicked, things like that," Yao snapped, pulling Ivan protectively close.

"Okay, so maybe I'm not _all_ that innocent. But I sure as hell am lonely. So can't I just be with you for a little bit? I'm not going to start yelling or trying to kill you – I'll act like a real person."

Everyone looked at each other, automatically wary of Toris' kindness and gentle nature returning. He definitely wanted something. There was no way a man who made their world a living hell for the past year and some odd months would want to be nice to them again without wanting something in return.

Then again, if they could get his trust, escaping would be significantly easier.

"Fine, you can stay," Ludwig said.

"Thanks, Ludwig, you're so sweet," Toris replied mockingly.

"Not as sweet as you think Ivan is," Gilbert muttered, testing how truthful to the _"polite"_ personality Toris really was.

"I'm going to ignore that," Toris sighed, much to everyone's shock. "By the way, Ludwig, did you succeed in poisoning Kaczka?"

"What did you do?!" Gilbert growled, glaring at Ludwig. He leaned in close enough that nobody else could hear them, whispering in German, "If you gave this away I'll slaughter you tonight."

"Yeah, Kaczka calls me today and tells me that Ludwig was trying to poison him using vodka. I didn't really think that Ludwig would actually try that. So, did you poison him or not?"

"Uh, no? I don't have any poison with me, I never have had any poison with me, and all the man wanted was a free drink," Ludwig explained, hoping he wasn't blushing too badly.

Toris started laughing, which could either mean that he bought into Ludwig's story or he knew the German was lying. "I knew it. God, we ought to just send that man off to the Eastern front. They could use him much more than we could. He's the most irritating person here, and that includes Feliks."

"For some reason he thinks Nazi jokes are socially acceptable," Gilbert added resentfully.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know he was doing that," Toris apologized, sounding quite disgusted. "I thought he just made communist jokes. Believe me; I've had my fair share of those."

"He thinks my name is kraut, or at least that's what he refers to me as," Ludwig said.

"Listen, I am so sorry he's doing that. I understand why you tackled him that one time."

"Why don't you just send him far away from here if you hate him so much?" Yao asked, loosening up with Toris a bit. He still seemed rather wary, keeping close to Ivan.

"I can't! That's the worst part about him – we can't send him away. He's the son of a rich man in Szczecin, and his father won't let him go to real warfare. You know the typical spoiled brat who thinks they can do whatever they want but daddy's always there to protect him, except this time the brat actually has weapons. But his father is always there to make sure he's safe and isn't doing any actual fighting. He practically bought his way to sergeant, not earned it. So we get stuck with him here," Toris groaned. "I'd much rather be on the front lines than stay here with him. Who cares if I'm getting shot at? No more annoying brat, right?"

"You know what's strange? I can almost forget that you're the man who locks people up and tortures them," Roderich said to Toris, studying the man carefully. "Are you sure you don't want something?"

"I do want attention. It's very lonesome in the office with Feliks and my brothers. I would just like to be normal again. I'm sick of this whole act I have to put on," Toris answered sheepishly. "Personally, I'd rather be a prisoner than be in charge. At least then I could be myself."

"You know, you could be yourself for a change. And a rather nice one at that," Ivan said.

"Who would be intimidated by a person who stutters whenever they get nervous or is way too nice to everyone? You certainly weren't scared of me back in the Soviet Union."

"No, I wasn't," Ivan sighed. "But you were much more likable then than you are now."

"I'm not going for likable. I just want to be threatening enough to keep people in line, but I don't want to change my personality. There really is no in between. It's either I stay a cruel person or be a gentle person…" Toris paused for a moment, thinking about what he'd just said. "To tell you the truth, I wish this war had never happened."

* * *

That night, Toris gave orders to the guard in quiet Polish when he left. It was almost saddening to see him go – as for the short time they'd talked Ludwig had really thought of him as a normal person. Then he remembered all the pain and suffering he caused and that they were trying to escape from him.

The guard stayed at the door for much longer than he typically did and actually watched them; a true rarity. But finally he realized that nothing was going to happen and he headed off to wherever it was he went.

A few minutes later Basch silently came in. With the coat and hat he did look eerily like Feliks, startling everyone. Ludwig thought for just a moment the Pole had actually come to tell them they'd found Basch and were going to execute all of them tomorrow morning. But once Basch started talking, his cover was completely ruined. His accent was just too thick to try and pull off a Polish one. It was better that he kept his mouth shut.

After Basch unlocked the cells, he led them outside in an orderly fashion. Guards didn't even look their way as Basch walked by. The Swiss was twirling his hair as he walked much like Feliks did, and the hat hid any differences in Basch's face. He marched right up to the front gate with Ivan, pulling out the keys. No one even noticed that Basch wasn't Feliks, saluting the short Swiss as if he really was the Pole.

The other four stood back, watching Basch fumble with the keys, trying to find the right one. Several agonizing seconds were spent with Basch jamming a key into the lock, using a string of curses since it wasn't the right one, and then repeating the cycle. Two guards who were watching the gate came over to Basch and offered to help, but he shook his head no and kept trying. After that they were left alone, Basch trying key after key with no success.

"What do you mean you didn't have your phone today?!" Toris exploded from somewhere behind them, stomping his foot.

"I was at IKEA dude's! I didn't think I would, like, need it!" Feliks shot back.

Slowly they turned around to find Toris and Feliks arguing by the officer's barracks. They hadn't noticed the six of them at the front gate; thankfully the guards hadn't noticed Feliks was in two places at once now. But someone was bound to see soon. Basch was trying keys more quickly, his hands trembling so badly he dropped the keys several times.

"Then how did I get messages from you if you weren't here?!"

"Like, I don't know! Ask Ludwig or Sergeant Kaczka, they were only ones here today!"

"You left your phone alone with _Ludwig?!_ " Toris hissed. "Do you realize how much stuff he could've gotten into? We have way too much information on that phone to leave it lying around!"

"What? It's not like he would've done anything!"

"I was talking to Ludwig?" Toris asked himself. "Are you positive that wasn't you? It looked exactly like how you text."

"I. Left. My. Phone. Here," Feliks said, enunciating every word and slamming his fist on the wall.

Basch finally found the right key, and pushed the gates open with a loud creak. He said a few words to Ivan, who had to bend down to be at eye level with the short Swiss. Then Basch handed him the keys and motioned for the rest of them to follow him.

"Oh, my _God_ ," Toris roared, finally noticing the group of people at the entrance.

Ivan took one final look at Basch and threw him outside the gates. He waved Basch on, trying to get him to move.

Basch froze. For the first time Ludwig could remember, Basch looked terrified. His legs were shaking and he was as white as a sheet.

Then, number 140084 was gone. The first and possibly only escapee from the group vanished into the darkness of the forest.

Ivan glanced back at Toris, and then at the disappearing Swiss. Toris was already coming to them, hand on his pistol. But before Toris could get there or yell an order, Ivan ran over and grabbed the Lithuanian. There was a split second where Toris started to shout an order to the guards, but Ivan stopped that. Putting one hand on the small of the man's back and the other on the back of his head, Ivan pulled Toris into a passionate and very hungry kiss.

At first Toris was too stunned to do anything – along with everyone else. Then there was the tiny fraction of a second where it looked like he was actually kissing back and liking it. And then he must've fully realized what was happening, because he started to struggle, pushing against the man's chest. But Ivan wasn't letting him out of it, keeping the man's head pressed to his own. He seemed to be enjoying himself as he ran his hand further down Toris' back and tangled his fingers in his dark hair, ignoring how Toris was trying to break away from him. The Russian looked over at Ludwig with a worried expression, as if he was suddenly regretting the kiss and couldn't back out of it. His eyes flicked towards the forest, eyebrows knitted together with concern.

It took Ludwig a second to realize that Ivan was buying Basch time and not confessing his desperate love for Toris. Ivan may have just saved Basch's life with a simple kiss. That definitely was a brave move, something Ludwig would've never thought of or had the courage to pull off. But Ivan did, and he was able to pull the move off perfectly. Anyone could see that there was tension between the two and Toris was always dragging Ivan off somewhere. In reality it was revenge of sorts for things Ivan did to Toris, but to an outsider it didn't look like that. Ludwig heard guards and prisoners alike making plenty of dirty jokes about the two. So Ivan just played on this already existing rumor of the two being Romeo and Juliet lovers and was able to buy Basch some time.

Finally Toris broke away from the Russian, staggering backwards. He wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand, looking absolutely revolted. His whole face was bright red with embarrassed blush, green eyes glaring up at Ivan with a mix of shock and anger. Ivan tried to draw him back in, but Toris pulled his revolver out of its holster and kept it steadily aimed at Ivan's head.

"What are you doing?!" Toris yelled at the guards. "Find Basch _immediately!_ Shoot on sight! Do not bring him back here until you've emptied out all of your bullets into him!"

Gunfire rang out in the forest, and Ludwig could only hope Basch wasn't hit. Packs of dogs were sent out of the gates, sharp teeth gleaming in the spotlights scanning the trees. All anyone could do now was pray that Basch knew what he was doing.

"And _you_! What the hell were you thinking?!" Toris snarled, pointing at Ivan accusingly.

Ivan stuck his nose up in the air, crossing his arms. "I can see when I'm not loved and appreciated. Toris, I was trying to tell you I love you, but you may be too dense for that."

"Bullshit! I know you hate me, you know you hate me! No one in their right mind would pull something…like…like _that!_ Only a brute would force their tongue into someone's mouth and claim that they're doing it for love!Drop to your knees and put your hands in the air right now before I _shoot you_!"

Ivan slowly sank to the ground, hands raised in the air. "But, Liet, I love you. Please, just believe me that I was doing it out of love," he begged, still trying to sell his story even though all hope was lost.

"Don't call me that _name_ , you _animal!"_ Toris kicked Ivan in the ribs and then again in the stomach. "Where's Ludwig? He was the only one who had access to the office."

"I'm right here!" Ludwig stepped forward, turning Toris' attention away from Ivan. Gilbert grabbed for Ludwig, trying to stop him, but it was too late now. Ivan looked up at Ludwig with fear in his normally cheerful eyes, coughing up blood.

"How did you get the keys without Kaczka noticing? Maybe you really did poison him? In that case, I'd be more than happy to return the favour. Which do you prefer – cyanide or arsenic? Or perhaps you're a strychnine type of person," Toris growled, grabbing Ludwig's shirt.

Ludwig tried to come up with an answer, but his mind was completely blank. He couldn't get over the fact that they'd been caught and he was going to be poisoned. And that wouldn't be the end of it. Ludwig was almost certain he was going to die. He was looking right into the eyes of his to be executioner, the same man who'd been so friendly mere hours ago. How was he not supposed to be scared? What sort of person could look death in the face and give him an answer to the question that would have him killed?

"I switched him places! And I gave the guard the vodka so he'd refer to me as Ludwig over the phone! Then I drugged him and stole the keys!" Ivan gasped after noticing Ludwig was too terrified to answer, coughing a few more times. "I wanted Basch to be with his family, da?"

Toris dropped Ludwig, walking back over to Ivan. Ludwig tried to stammer out the honest answer and save Ivan, but Toris had already smacked Ivan across the face with the butt of his gun. Yao started to shout something not very friendly, Gilbert clamping his hand over the man's mouth.

"His family is right here! _Who_ was he going to _see_?!" Toris kneed Ivan in the ribs again like he was going to beat an answer out of the poor man.

"He was going to see Lilli!" Ivan shouted, bracing himself for another hit.

"Oh, that's right, I forgot about Lilli. You let him out so he could go see his sister? How cute," Toris smiled, clapping his hands together. Ivan mistakenly loosened up a bit, earning him another blow to the face. "You are _disgusting_ ," he spat, backhanding Ivan. "I feel sick even being in your presence. What sort of _demon_ uses people, fakes being in love with them, and then lies to that person? So, do you even love me or not? It's rather hard to figure out with you."

"I think you'll be happy to know those feelings of disgust are returned," Ivan smirked, even though his nose had started bleeding. He was standing up to Toris, even though he was probably in the shadow of death. The Russian had kissed the man he loathed to save Basch, lied to said man to keep Ludwig safe, and was still trying to make jokes.

Toris kicked him in the stomach, causing the man to crumple.

"Now you're at my mercy. It isn't so fun when you're the one being kicked around, is it?" Toris laughed, grabbing a fistful of Ivan's hair. He bent over, holding Ivan up to his face.

"You're coming with me tonight. I'm going to teach you a lesson about using people."

* * *

 **A/N: Hello! I'm still on Christmas break, so I'm posting! There will be a chapter on Thursday (in the USA) and the regular one on Saturday. I'm very bored at my house, so I've literally spent the past week doing nothing but writing. Do I have a life? Maybe...**

 **So, our first order of business covers Ivan's daring move. I would like to say that this is not a RusLiet story. I personally don't like yaoi - I can handle the fluffy stuff, but any more than that and I'm a bit uncomfortable. Please don't get mad or say things about my personal choices, okay? I'm cool with your choices, I hope you can be cool with mine! I respect all of your personal preferences, even if I do disagree. I would never say that I dislike yaoi to your face, so please don't call me out. And if you happen to be a hardcore RusLiet shipper, take that little bit there and cherish it, because that is one of the only scenes you'll ever get out of me.**

 **Secondly, I hope my interpretation of Berwald's speech patterns wasn't too terrible. I tried to at least make it readable.**

 **As for new followers and reviewers, big thank you's to** Kotia97 **(a person from Poland following my story, which is riddled with terribly translated Polish? Oh, for shame, for _shame!_ ) **Mara Lyres **,** Seele Esser Deutsch **, and** Comix and Co **(you really know how to make my mornings wonderful!)**

 **See you all next chapter!**


	19. Price That They Pay

**There is a mild mention of suicide in this chapter. It's only about three sentences, but I don't want to upset anyone.**

* * *

Gilbert once again was writing in his diary, announcing every word loudly. No one wanted to hear a repeat of the day's events, but they didn't have much of a choice. He was _way_ too obnoxious to ignore. Everyone was still quite shaken up from the events of the previous night and would much rather forget about them, but it didn't seem like they were going to get that pleasure. The Prussian was doing quite the opposite of helping them forget – talking noisily about the night before.

"That goat farming bastard Basch escaped last night with a little help from Ivan. Okay, a lot of help," Gilbert said, tapping his pen on the worn cover of the diary. "You should've seen how our favourite Russian kissed Toris. Damn, you'd think the two were really in love. I mean, he got super into it. Anyway, if Basch is dead, they haven't dragged his body throughout camp yet like a dead animal on parade. When we actually saw Toris today he was pissed and wouldn't answer any questions about Basch. So he's presumably alive, but I wouldn't put any money on it yet.

"Ivan got caught for Basch's sake, and he's been missing since last night. Guess that kissing doesn't work all that great, does it? I had to go do some basic stuff for Eduard today at the office and I happened to catch a glimpse of him. Let's just say that he wasn't conscious and end the story right there."

"Really?" Yao sniffed. He'd been awake since Ivan left, worrying and crying over the Russian. There was a huge chance that Ivan was going to die, and Yao was in hysterics over the mere thought of it.

" _Ja_ ," Gilbert looked at Yao with more sympathy than he usually gave anyone. "But at least your boyfriend isn't dead yet. There's always a –"

" _He's not my boyfriend!_ Is this really the time to be making your stupid jokes?! Don't you realize what could happen?!" Yao screamed, slamming his fists down.

"Sorry, sorry!" Gilbert held his hands up in mock innocence. "Didn't realize that was such a touchy subject," he sighed, turning back to his writing.

"Note to awesome self: Yao is _not_ dating Ivan, contrary to everyone's beliefs," Gilbert said quietly, rolling his eyes.

Yao threw a rock at Gilbert, hitting his foot. "I heard that, you stupid potato boy!"

"Ow! Shit, Yao, calm down! It's what we call a joke. Someone's been hanging out with Lovino for too long," Gilbert muttered, writing Yao and Ivan's initials and bordering them with a heart. "Where is that Italian bastard anyway?"

"I haven't seen him for a long time. Antonio too," Ludwig replied, wringing his hands. "You don't think they're…you know, dead?"

Gilbert shook his head. "They probably escaped. Or maybe they were moved. I heard Toris talking about Poznan the other day; they could've been shipped off to there."

"Lucky them," Yao huffed. "I wish I could be moved. Then I wouldn't be here with you stupid cows."

"Rude. I haven't done anything but say you and Ivan are in love," Gilbert yawned.

"I told you to _shut up_!" Yao threw a few more rocks at Gilbert. Several of them ended up hitting Ludwig, pushing his already thin patience.

"I hope that goat farming, money loving, and gun maniac cheap short shit is enjoying his freedom, be it in death or escaped. If he's dead, I hope he's enjoying whatever comes after this. If he's alive, I hope he's freezing his ass off tonight.

"Love, Gilbert.

"P.S- I am awesome!"

Gilbert slammed his diary closed triumphantly and placed it back on top of the small stack he'd started of things he wrote on. So far there were two diaries – one from before their capture and another one that Ivan had recently pulled off a corpse, much to Gilbert's disgust. He was quite certain he'd get some sort of disease from the book but used it anyway. Several pages of torn papers, napkins, cardboard, and anything he could get his hands on to record his days also joined the two diaries in the pile. And of course, none of them had anything relevant to HRE. The Prussian was surprisingly careful about that, making sure that Ludwig couldn't find out anymore about this strange boy.

"Short shit?" Roderich echoed."I'll have to use that." He was in the middle of his nightly ritual, talking to the wedding ring as if it were Elizabeta. The Austrian said it kept him from going crazy, but everyone else thought it only made him seem more insane.

"How long is he going to keep Ivan?" Yao pulled his knees up to his chest, starting to calm down a bit.

Ludwig was about to answer that Ivan could very likely be dead, but a large clap of thunder beat him to it. Before long rain was pounding down on the roof, the roar almost deafening. That quieted everyone. No one dared to say a word during the storm – even Roderich stopped talking to the wedding ring. It was like they'd never heard a storm before and were too awestruck to say anything. They sat in complete and beautiful silence, listening to the rain hammer down, the occasional lightning strike illuminating the cells.

The cell house door was thrown open, a figure looming in the doorway like in one of those old horror movies. As if on cue a crack of lightning lit up the silhouette of the not so mysterious person. Who else worked in Bolesność that always carried a whip and had devilish green eyes?

Toris pulled Ivan behind him, who seemed to be almost asleep. They both were soaking wet, rainwater dripping off of Toris' shoulders and forming little puddles on the floor. Several times Ivan stumbled as he was dragged along and when he finally fell he refused to get up.

"Get up. _Now_ ," Toris growled, nudging the body a few times. Ivan groaned loudly, shouting something in slurred Russian.

"Don't you _dare_ sass me like that! You're lucky to even be alive right now! Do you want to die?" Toris scolded, stepping on Ivan's hand as a warning. He yelped, starting to get up.

Ivan said something in Russian again as he shakily got to his feet. Toris replied in the same language, his words sounding much more hostile than Ivan's. He was clearly on his last nerve with the man as he tore open the door and threw Ivan in his cell.

"Ivan!" Yao caught the man as he was thrown in. Ivan immediately lightened up, pulling Yao into a gentle hug. "Oh, my God, I thought you were going to be dead! Are you okay? He didn't hurt you, did he?" Yao said quickly, looking up at the Russian. It was quite obvious that Ivan had been hurt, as his face looked like it was streaked with red war paint. But he was grinning as he held Yao. The Chinese man started to cry again, burying his face in Ivan's chest. "Thank God you're alive."

"How nice," Toris smiled locked the cell door. "Good night, Ivan. Tell no one about what I did last night, okay? _YA lyublyu tebya, moy malen'kiy lzhets."_ He blew Ivan a kiss, disappearing back out into the storm.

 _"YA tozhe lyublyu tebya, moy malen'kiy chertenok. YA nadeyus', chto vy poluchite ot udara molnii!"_ Ivan called after him.

With Yao's help, Ivan eased himself into his cot. Every movement looked like it hurt the poor man, but he was trying to keep smiling for Yao's sake. Yao tried to get him to lie down, but Ivan shook his head.

"Please don't. My back is all bloody and it hurts badly," Ivan said, pushing Yao's hands off of his shoulders.

"Oh, no," Yao sighed, gingerly touching Ivan's face.

"I look pretty bad, da?" Ivan laughed a bit, putting his hand up to meet Yao's.

Pretty bad was an understatement. One of Ivan's eyes was black; his nose was crooked, probably broken. He had several scratches and bruises covering his face, a bloody nose and lip, and new cuts on his already scarred neck. And that was just what was visible. There was no telling what lay beneath Ivan's shirt, other than the fact that the front of his shirt was almost completely red.

"Don't worry," Yao assured him. "I'll get you fixed up right away." He grabbed Ivan's bag, pulling out his large collection of stolen medical supplies. Ludwig was amazed at all the bandages and bottles of things Yao was able to steal. He must be quite good at stealing to have accumulated this much, and even better at not getting caught.

Yao smiled softly, pulling an old shirt out of the bag. He ripped it into strips, dabbing the makeshift bandages at Ivan's wounds.

"You didn't have to do that last night, Ivan," Ludwig said, watching Yao clean a rather large cut running the length of Ivan's face. Soon he realized he was going to have to stitch it up and grabbed a needle and thread.

"Do what? Kiss Toris? Listen, that was a _huge_ mistake. Number one," Ivan muttered through clenched teeth. Yao apologized profusely, telling him that he was really trying not to hurt him. "He's a terrible kisser. Number two, our noses definitely don't work together, mine being so large and all. And number three, I prefer people who don't torment you for no good reason. He just really wasn't my type."

Ludwig couldn't help but smile at Ivan's persistent sense of humour. It was quite amazing that he could make jokes while being in so much pain. "I meant telling him we switched jobs. I could've taken the blame."

"But I had the keys. So I was mostly to blame, da?" Ivan flinched as Yao touched his broken nose.

"I was in charge though," Gilbert added. "I should've been first. If anyone should be blamed, it's me."

"I texted Toris trying to act like Feliks. I gave us away," Ludwig admitted softly.

"You gave us away?" Roderich gasped. "I could be gone from this hell hole right now, but _you gave us away?!_ "

" _Please_ , as if you could even make it! You'd be shot down in an instant!" Gilbert snorted.

"Even so, it would be better than returning to this place ever again!"

"But you have so much more to live for!" Gilbert groaned dramatically, holding his head. "Would you really want to die before seeing your country again?"

Roderich's voice became dark, laced with a bit of unfitting happiness. "If it means joining Elizabeta, then, yes, I would. As a matter of fact, that's a great idea. Ludwig can steal keys and he's a total screw up and a terrible liar, so why can't I steal radium? All there is left is a fast little shot and a bullet."

"Don't you dare call my Ludwig a screw up! And you're going to kill yourself now?!" Gilbert roared.

"That's actually not a half bad plan! Face it, Prussia – we're never getting out of here alive! And it would be so much easier than living through this every single day for _who-knows-how_ long!" Roderich cried, tearing off his glasses.

"How long have you been thinking about this? You aren't actually considering doing something like that, are you?" Gilbert asked, seeming quite concerned for the welfare of his brother.

"Yes, I am seriously considering it. I've been thinking about it for, oh, you know, perhaps a couple of months. I have a great plan worked out in my head too. See, first I'll need to get a pistol from somewhere, so I figure I'll –"

"No one is going to kill themselves. We are all going to get out of here, _alive_ ," Ludwig interrupted.

"So Elizabeta doesn't count anymore?" Roderich asked angrily. "Because, last I checked, she was still part of this! Just because she's no longer living doesn't mean she's no longer accounted for here! She is still family!"

"I meant everyone currently in this cell house! And don't you dare start accusing me of saying Elizabeta's not part of this family! You know I miss her as much as you do!" Ludwig fell back on his cot, getting quite frustrated with the Austrian.

"That's exactly what you were instigating, young man!"

"I'm not little anymore! _For the love of God_ , I'm two hundred and something! Stop calling me young man, you mad bastard!" Ludwig shouted at the top of his lungs.

"You watch your mouth, Holy Rome –" Roderich stopped short, clapping a hand over his mouth. Gilbert gasped, his eyes growing wide. Ludwig's brother glanced over at him, silently praying that he hadn't heard those two words.

"Holy _who_?" Ludwig asked, losing the furious tone he'd just had a moment ago. He sat upright, just now registering what Roderich said. "Oh, my God, you just gave me his name, didn't you?"

" _No!"_ Roderich's voice cracked as he shouted. "I d-d-didn't say anything like that! You're hearing th-th-things."

"You called me Holy Rome! That's his name, isn't it?" Ludwig asked excitedly.

"That is no one's name. Can we stop this here?" Gilbert said, waving Ludwig off.

"Not yet," Ludwig growled. "Give me the answer, Roderich. That's his name, right? The little blond boy who was your son? How could you forget your own kid?"

Roderich didn't answer.

"Don't you remember? He likes horses, and that little girl, Feli, and he wants to be a knight when he gets older! Can't you remember when Basch and Lilli came in the middle of the night? Or when you got really sick? C'mon, just give me an _answer!_ "

"I remember all too well," Roderich answered, his voice choked by sobs. "You've never seen your son go off to war all by himself and return dead! You _want_ to forget it! No being alive wants to think of things like that over and over. The boy's blood was on my hands, I held him as he took his dying breaths…and yet you _insist_ on bringing up those horrible memories for me! I can't even sleep at night because I can't get my mind off of him! He was my child and I let him die. Do you have _any_ idea how bad that feels? You know you killed your own son! Why can't you just leave it alone and give me what little peace I have _left_?! Don't you understand yet why I want to die?"

Ludwig was too startled by Roderich's outburst to say anything. He hadn't really put much into thought about how the Austrian fit into all of this. Yes, he was in the dreams, but Ludwig didn't think that it really mattered that Roderich was there. Now that he knew that Holy Rome died he felt even more terrible about the constant questions, the ones that kept Roderich up at night. The German didn't mean to bring up painful memories for Roderich. All he wanted to do was know, but that came with a price.

"Are you all done? I can't focus." Yao broke the silence, glaring at the three of them.

"I'm so sorry," Roderich choked. "I just snapped back to when he used to yell at me. They just look and sound so similar, I thought…"

"It's fine. Really, it's not your fault. Sorry, Yao, we totally forgot about Ivan," Gilbert apologized, glancing over at Ludwig with a vicious look in his crimson eyes. Ludwig already felt bad enough – he didn't need his brother's help.

"Thank you," Yao sighed. "What did he even do to you, Ivan?"

"I don't want to say," Ivan shook his head, covering his mouth with his hands. He sounded scared, his voice a bit higher than normal. Whatever happened was enough to terrify him.

"You can tell me. I promise I won't tell anyone," Yao said gently, stroking Ivan's hair. He leaned over, Ivan whispering something in his ear.

"Oh, my God. Are you serious?" Yao gasped, putting a hand over his mouth. "Please, tell me you're lying! He's not _that_ sort of person!"

Ivan nodded somberly, hiding his face with his hands.

"What?" Gilbert asked. "What did he do?"

Yao shook his head, looking slightly sick. "I promised that I wouldn't repeat it."

"Please?" Gilbert begged.

"No. I already told you," Yao growled as pressed a strip of shirt coated in some strange liquid to his patient's eye. "Hold this here. Help swelling go down."

"Hey, Ivan? What did Basch say to you last night?" Roderich said, his voice still shaky.

"He said even if he died, he still thought all of you were assholes. Oh, and he told me to never say a word about HRE again, and he also said that he hoped I died a long and painful death if I didn't escape. So the typical friendly goodbyes we'd expect from him."

"Where else did Toris hurt you?" Yao asked.

"On my back and my stomach," Ivan replied, pointing to his chest.

Yao unbuttoned Ivan's shirt, a tiny gasp escaping his lips.

"I have a long night ahead of me," he sighed weakly, grabbing more bandages.

* * *

 _The young boy stomped out of the house, completely engrossed in his fury. He didn't care if anyone saw him in his nightclothes – he was too angry to think about what others thought of him. All he wanted to do now was run out to the giant tree at the edge of the forest and scream, which is exactly where he was going. Ludwig couldn't yell in the house, so he was going to do it outside._

 _When he finally reached the ancient tree, he sat down between its twisted roots and started screaming. He pounded his fists into the dirt, tore up clumps of grass, tried anything he could to work the anger out of his system. How else was a young boy supposed to let out all of his hatred for his somewhat father and the world? Ludwig wasn't allowed to tear things up in the house, he didn't have anyone to talk to that had a rational mind, and he didn't want to sit in his bedroom and stare at the wall for hours._

 _His screams turned into sobs, and the boy soon found himself crying. He was so furious and dejected at the same time, all because of that worthless Austrian! The fool couldn't even keep his empire together anymore. Everything was falling to pieces, and Roderich did nothing to stop it. No, he just sat back and watched while the world as Ludwig knew it became ruins, with more and more being destroyed every day._

 _And just this morning Roderich told Ludwig that he was going to have to leave. Leave everything he knew and go fight in a war that he knew nothing about. He was basically sending his beloved child off to die._

 _Did he even care about Ludwig anymore? Lately all Roderich seemed concerned about was saving himself and his music. He didn't talk to Feli or Ludwig at all, the two hardly saw him anyway. Roderich was either sick and locked away in his room or unapproachable and locked in a room with his precious grand piano. Was he even aware that men came to the house every day bringing bad news? Or was he too focused on whatever compositions he decided to try his hand at?_

 _"It's not fair," Ludwig sobbed, wiping at his tears. "He can't make me go."_

 _Perhaps he should run away. If he didn't have to go fight in some far off war, then he could come back after the war was over and be with Feli again._ Yes, _Ludwig thought._ That's a great idea! If I run away then I can't go off to war! Roderich can't make me do anything if I'm not here!

 _He started to make plans for his grand escape, drawing them out in the dirt with a stick. First he had to conquer the task of getting out of the manor. Ludwig decided that he would escape in the night through the back door the merchants used. And then he would run to the forest, where he'd already hidden his supplies in the strange tree that had a huge hole in its trunk. Once he had everything he would –_

 _"Holy Rome? Are you alright?"_

 _Ludwig jolted upright, looking over his shoulder to find Feli running out to the tree. She was still in her nightclothes too, a silky blue gown. Remembering the plans he had drawn out in the dirt, Ludwig quickly swept his hand over them to destroy the evidence._

 _"What are you doing?!" Ludwig stood up, holding his hands out to stop her. Feli stopped in her tracks, looking quite confused. "Someone might see you! You can't be outside wearing just that!"_

 _"I wanted to talk to you! After you got so angry with Mr. Austria I thought you might do something rash. But if you want me to go back inside, I will," Feli said sadly, looking down at her bare feet._

 _Ludwig put his hands down, sitting back down at the base of the tree. He_ was _planning on doing something rash. For those few hopeful minutes he'd thought he could actually escape. Didn't Gilbert tell him one time that you couldn't run away from your problems? "If you want to stay, you can."_

 _"Why were you crying?" She asked, sitting down beside him._

 _"I don't want to die. Something tells me that when I go off to fight I'm not going to come back. And I like it here. I just don't understand why I have to go," he sighed, wiping at his eyes. He hadn't realized he was still crying, even as he made those agitated plans a moment ago._

 _"I don't understand it either."_

 _"Why can't Roderich and Gilbert go fight for me? Why should I have to go out all on my own? I'm just a boy, and Roderich's asking me to go up against a huge army!" Ludwig looked over at Feli, who was drawing circles in the dirt with her bare feet where his map of the house had been._

 _"Who knows why? Strange things keep happening. Everything's just falling apart. Even Ms. Hungary and your brother seem miserable. And they're always happy," she said, surprisingly melancholy. "But you'll be just fine!" She perked right back up, giving Ludwig a sweet smile that made his heart pound. "I know you'll come back to us just fine! And once this silly war's over we can go back to being a family again!"_

 _"_ Ja _, I hope we can."_

 _"You can't just hope! You have to know! Say it – I know we can go back to being a family again!"_

 _"You sound like my mother!" Ludwig laughed, playfully pushing Feli._

 _Feli crossed her arms, sticking out her bottom lip. "Say it. Don't make me use your full name, young man!" She glared at him, trying to make her voice sound like an angry mother's._

 _"Fine, mother," Ludwig giggled. "I know we can go back to being a family again!"_

 _"Very good. Now remember to work hard at your studies, eat your vegetables, and be nice to your brother." Feli couldn't pull off the mother act anymore and burst out laughing, leaning back against the tree._

 _"And I suppose the same goes for you too, mother?"_

 _Feli stood up so she towered over Ludwig, putting one hand on her hip and pointed at Ludwig in an accusing manner. "Is that anyway to talk to your parents?"_

 _"No, mother," Ludwig hung his head in mock shame._

 _"Now, we need to go eat breakfast. Growing boys need food."_

 _Ludwig got up, following Feli inside. From the hallway they could hear Basch and Gilbert arguing loudly about something, while Lilli tried to break them up. All of their family meals were like this now – Basch typically had something to scream about or Gilbert picked a fight with someone. Everyone was always angry with each other now. But before they went back into the dining room, Ludwig stopped the young girl._

 _"Thank you," he said softly, knowing all too well he was blushing. "You stopped me from running away."_

 _"No trouble." She gave Ludwig a tight hug, sending a jolt through the boy. Feli was actually touching him in a loving manner again, making his heart pound like a frantic drum. He was too dumbstruck to even respond._

 _"Don't ever run away. Remember, I know we can go back to being a family again," she beamed, looking up at Ludwig._

 _"I know we can go back to being a family again."_

 _"There you go!" Feli smiled again, disappearing into the dining room._

 _Ludwig stood there for a long time, leaning against the wall. How he wished he could tell that adorable girl his real feelings. And would he ever get the chance to? If he left for war and didn't make it back, she'd never know. He'd never see her again. No longer would his days be brightened by the girl with the reddish brown hair and the strange curl, her amber eyes would never twinkle when he told her a story, he'd never get the kiss he'd often fantasized about. He'd be all alone on a bloody battlefield._

 _And that didn't sound like a good tradeoff at all._

 _"Looks like you saw that girl again, didn't you?" Elizabeta laughed, appearing from the dining room._

 _Ludwig glanced up at her sheepishly. "So what if I like her?"_

 _"What, no '_ am I really dead' _this time? Or perhaps you haven't realized you're dreaming yet."_

 _"Well, now I have, thanks to you," Ludwig said, remembering who he really was. He hated that little moment when he realized that he didn't belong in this world and was really part of a hellish one. "How are things for you in the afterlife?"_

 _"I wish I could tell you. It's not the time for that, though. We need to talk, privately." She took him by the hand, leading him off to a drawing room._

 _"What's so important?" Ludwig asked, watching Elizabeta lock the door._

 _"First order of business – we have to get you to realize you're dreaming almost immediately. Your days are numbered; I can't waste any of them waiting for you to remember that you're an adult and not a cute little boy."_

" _Way to depress me even more than I thought was possible. So this kid's days are running out?" Ludwig looked at his own hands, studying them carefully. "How long does he have?"_

 _"Just enough time to get you to realize things. He is only going to live at this house for around another month; once he leaves I won't be able to contact you. Secondly, try to keep Roderich from…well…" Her voice disappeared as she sat down by Ludwig._

 _"Suicide. He has a plan, too," Ludwig said grimly. "What do you want me to tell him?"_

 _"Don't say anymore about the dreams, okay? He always blamed himself for the boy's death. I feel terrible for what happened, but we can't fix any of it. If he starts getting really desperate, tell him that you and I can communicate. And above all, tell him to have hope. Please, tell everyone that."_

 _"I will," Ludwig nodded, praying that Roderich wouldn't ever get to that level._

 _"Please, just be good. You saw what Toris did to Ivan, right? I don't want that happening to any of you," Elizabeta stroked Ludwig's blond locks, her face softened with grief. "You just have to hold out for a little bit longer. And then it'll all be over."_

 _"But how long is a little bit longer?"_

 _Elizabeta bit her lip, pulling the young Ludwig into a hug. "I'm so sorry. I wish I could tell you everything! I've tried and tried and tried, but I just can't bring myself to do it."_

 _"Then just say it! It won't hurt anything." Ludwig wrapped his arms around Elizabeta's neck, pulling her close. "Just tell me everything."_

 _"I can't. Just hold on. Slowly I'll explain these things to you. And then we can all be together again. I know we can be a family again."_

 _"How can we all be together if you're dead and we –" Ludwig stopped midsentence, looking up at Elizabeta in denial. "You can't mean that we're all going to die? No, you don't mean that. You're just talking metaphorical, right?"_

 _She whispered something in Hungarian, tears starting to fall from the corners of her eyes. "I love you, Ludwig. I'm so sorry I can't say anymore."_

 _"You can't ever say anymore!" Ludwig shouted. "How long am I going to have to wait until you can tell me something useful?"_

 _"Good night, Ludwig."_

* * *

Toris stood solemnly by Feliks and his brothers, looking down on the dead man's body with revulsion. He didn't even seem to be bothered by the fact that he'd just watched the man's life be taken from him, just seeming disgusted that the two even had to be in the same presence.

"Name?" Raivis asked, opening up his journal. He had to flip through several pages of names and information – all of them military personnel killed in and around Bolesność for security reasons.

"Sergeant Yanek Kaczka," Toris replied calmly, pulling at the sleeves of his sweatshirt. Summer was just starting to pick up, but the mornings were still quite cold. And this execution had to be a quiet one. No extravagant demonstrations in front of the whole camp – just the four of them, a loaded pistol, and a sergeant in the woods behind the office early in the morning. It sounded like the start of a bad joke to Toris; in a way it actually was.

"Age?"

"At the time of death the sergeant was twenty-seven years, four months, twelve days."

"Time of death?"

"0400 exactly."

"Cause of death?"

Toris paused for a moment, considering his choices. There were so many of them. Accidentally wounded by the ravenous guard dogs, killed during one of the many air raids, died in a fight, which one was going to be the right choice? It had to sound heroic if Kaczka's father was going to believe it. "Killed in prisoner escape by said prisoner. Died trying to protect his men. A true hero indeed. No further remarks," he answered coldly.

"But, Toris, won't his father find out? I mean, he's going to want to investigate and then–" Raivis stopped scribbling, looking up at his brother.

"I said," Toris growled in a low voice. " _No further remarks._ Send his body off to his father and forget about it. Give our _'deepest sympathy'_ to his father." The Lithuanian rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "What a joke."

"I'll bring the body home if you don't want to," Eduard offered, walking over to Raivis.

"Okay. You can go get screamed at and I'll stay here," Raivis smiled, earning himself a slap upside the head by Eduard.

"Thanks, that's just what I needed to hear. I love being screamed at by four in the morning," Eduard groaned. "Did we really need to kill him?"

"Do you want to find the police at our door step? _'Oh, hello, Mr. Kaczka! That's a very large group of friends you have there! Why are they all pointing guns at us? What did your son say about this camp? You're arresting us for violation of the Geneva Convention? Oh, no sir, we would never do something like that._ '" Feliks laughed, snuggling closer to Toris. The Lithuanian put his arm around Feliks, giving him a small squeeze.

"Well, no, but wasn't there a better option than this?"

"Oh, yes," Feliks mocked. "Let's just let this man who knows _everything_ run, like, wild. He wouldn't tell a soul. He's too good, too pure. C'mon, Glasses, get some sense into you!"

"You don't have to be rude about it! I was just asking a simple question," Eduard sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Sorry, but there just wasn't any other options," Toris yawned, kneeling down next to the man. His eyes were still open, frozen with fear. He gently closed them, smiling at the thought of the sergeant's last breath. How could Toris forget Sergeant Kaczka's face when he pulled the pistol from his belt and pointed it right at the man's forehead? That must've been his first and last time to ever be at the other end of a gun barrel. He looked so terrified in that moment, begging for Toris' mercy. And was he going to give it to him?

No.

Was Kaczka foolish enough to think that Toris would let him go just because he could offer much more money than anyone else can?

Oh, yes. The sums of money he offered in his final moments were incredulous. Kaczka pleaded for forgiveness, throwing out huge amounts of riches he could give them if they would just spare him. He begged and he screamed and he cried and he bled and bled and _bled._

The spoiled brat had completely ignored all of their policies, allowing himself to be used like a simple pawn by Ludwig and unknowingly aiding in the escape of Basch Zwingli. But that wasn't the offense that set his execution in stone. Besides stealing things from the office any time he was in there, he'd gone through the file cabinets and found the _very_ sensitive information. Kaczka saw the numbers, he read the reports, he _knew_. That folder he read was full of papers on the number of deaths in the camps, the contracts signed by the personified nations, the reports about military officers killed for seemingly no logical reason, newspaper clippings on the mysterious camp in the forest. How were they supposed to keep him from talking about it? He was a well-off child, he thought he could do anything and get away with it. No one had ever got in the way and scolded him, told him that it was wrong to do something.

And so Toris was the first. He'd stepped in front of the man and put a pistol to his head. That stopped any attempt to go tell the world about the atrocities committed by the great Empire of Poland-Lithuania. No one was going to get in their way. Absolutely _no one_.

They'd thrown away far too much to give that information all away for money. The Geneva Convention was disregarded. When the Portuguese official in charge of inspecting the camps came, they'd all lied and made the place look like it was simply a prisoner-of-war camp. They tempted the prisoners with extra rations to get them to shut up and lie to the Portuguese man. Anyone who Feliks knew was at the risk of talking to the inspector spent the period of the examination in solitary confinement, and ten out of the twenty-four of them ended up dead the minute the official was gone. Sadly they couldn't kill Gilbert or Ivan quite yet. It was a rather dangerous game they were playing to lie to the higher-ups, but what other option was there?

Toris often asked himself that question on the long nights that he couldn't sleep. Why couldn't they just play fair? He'd sit up for hours staring out the window, trying to find the answer. Of course, this kept him awake instead of putting him to sleep as he hoped. He would just repeat the question over and over in his head, searching for a reason. Finally he realized that no one gained power by playing nice. Playing nice was for the weaker countries, the ones who submitted to anyone more powerful than them. Did the Soviets play fairly? No, they took countries left and right without much warning. Did the Nazis play fairly? _Definitely_ not. What about attempting to kill off a whole race of people was fair?

So if Feliks aimed to be the most powerful Empire, Toris would have to put aside his feelings and morals and start playing mean. No longer was he the cute, innocent country that fell at anyone's feet. Lithuania was back to that medieval time, where no one dared to mess with them. Toris went back to that cruelty, to that merciless hatred of man and cold heart. Because he was going to stand by Feliks, even though he knew deep down that what they were doing was very corrupt.

But wasn't he corrupted as well?

"C'mon, we need to get this cleaned up," Toris said, looking up at Eduard. "I'll help you load his body into the truck."

* * *

 **A/N: Sweet Mother Teresa on the hood of a Mercedes-Benz, this chapter is 6,000 words! To think that the original started out with a first chapter of 777 words exactly (if any of you actually read that one...that thing is a shame to me.)**

 **Translation time!**

 _YA lyublyu tebya, moy malen'kiy lzhets._ **\- I love you, my little liar.**

 _YA tozhe lyublyu tebya, moy malen'kiy chertenok. YA nadeyus', chto vy poluchite ot udara molnii! **-**_ **I love you too, my little imp. I hope you get struck by lightning!**

 **Well, there isn't very much to say here. Nothing's changed since Tuesday. There'll still be a chapter posted on Saturday, and I think you'll like it.**

 **Thank you to** mimimimi1234 **,** Rebeckapuss **, and my two faithful little cinnamon rolls,** Seele Esser Deutsch **and** Comix and Co **! (God love you two!) You guys keep me from having bad mornings. I am never angry if the little light on my phone is flashing. Because my God, some thinks my story is good! What more could I ask for? I'm happy with just a few people!**

 **See you all next chapter!**

 **Happy New Year!**

 **(I love you if you got the sweet Mother Teresa thing.)**


	20. Dead Man Walking

Basch fell against the wall, so frustrated he could've cried right there. All he wanted to do was scream for a good few minutes, but he couldn't. He couldn't risk drawing attention to himself. The last time he yelled out of anger, he'd found himself locked up in a German jail for a few weeks. They'd questioned him for a long time, thinking he was some kind of mental ward escapee. Evidently Basch gave off the appearance of a madman now. Sure, he kept a switchblade at hand at all times for safety reasons, hadn't slept in a proper place for a few years, had a rather large number burned into his neck, and was rejected in his own country – but he was _not_ insane.

And now here he was, Basch Zwingli, representative of Switzerland, trying not to cry in an alley. What used to be a proud personification of a country was no more than a vagrant wandering the streets of France, doing odd jobs to sustain himself and sleeping wherever he could. Where was he even? Last he checked he was in some nameless town on the French-Swiss border. Well, it had a name, but he didn't bother to learn it. What purpose was there when you never stayed in one area for too long to learn anything about it? But he'd moved quite a bit since then. He was probably further into France now than closer to his homeland.

How he wanted to go home. And he'd tried – oh, he'd tried. There was only a slight problem. Basch had no passport, no identification, and no real way of saying who he was except for that cursed number on his neck.

Oh, and he was dead.

He'd first learned of his death in Germany, back in Hamburg. Basch was working for an older man in his gun shop – one of the rare jobs Basch had really enjoyed. The man was reading the newspaper, telling him the news of the war as Basch was trying to repair the firing mechanism of a nice little handgun. He was just thinking about how much he'd like a gun like that when the man abruptly stopped talking, looking up at Basch.

"You…you're dead?" the man stammered, pointing at Basch with a bony finger. He seemed absolutely mortified that the Swiss was standing in his shop, even more so that he was alive.

"I think I'm still alive," Basch said, examining himself in the window. Sure, the effects of Bolesność were still quite visible – the hollow eyes, visible ribcage, countless fading scars, but he didn't look dead. "What makes you say a thing like that?"

"Basch Zwingli, reported dead just yesterday. Died in Szczecin, Poland. Known as the personification of Switzerland."

Basch put the gun down, walking over to the man. "Give me that," he snapped, taking the paper out of his hands. Sure enough, he was dead. Feliks had come out and stated that Basch was killed trying to escape from the camp, although it had been a complete accident. The Pole gave his apologies to Switzerland, saying that the body was not able to be returned to its rightful country due to its condition and left it at that. Nothing more was written about the dead man, other than the country of Switzerland was in a state of mourning, bringing flowers to Basch's house and flying thousands of the nation's flag in remembrance.

After that he was forcefully removed from the store and sent back out into the world with nothing more than his clothes and his faithful switchblade he'd stolen. And he'd just started to trust that old man. _Oh, well,_ he'd thought, storming down the street to a new town, _I guess that's what I get for putting any faith humans._

Now, thanks to Feliks' lie, number 148004 was dead. Basch was officially wiped off the face of the Earth, just a lowly man with an odd tattoo and a Swiss accent. He had no identity. What had once been a man of great pride was now a man of nothing, wandering through France without any real purpose. He couldn't get into his own country – he'd lied several times to even get into France. No one bought into his story of being an escaped prisoner, especially the authorities. They wanted papers and identification, not a crazed man's word that he was on his way to see his sister. Compared to his daily struggles of just trying to live, Lilli was unattainable; at this rate he would never see his beloved sister ever again.

He just wanted to hold her again.

Basch swiped at his eyes, trying to hide the tears. There was no one in the alley to see him, but he was ashamed to be crying over such trivial things. He was supposed to be the brave big brother and he failed. Lilli probably already knew he was "dead." The poor girl must've been crying too, her only comfort being Natalia and Yekaterina. What a failure Basch was. If he could've done anything right he would already be holding Lilli and crying alongside her.

But he'd messed everything up. He shouldn't have tried to steal things back in Germany, shouldn't have jumped onto any train going vaguely in the direction of Switzerland, and certainly shouldn't have made more enemies than friends. Now Lilli would never see her big brother again, Basch would be stuck as a homeless man for the rest of his life, and he just wished he could die. That was his prayer every night – to let Feliks' lie become truth. Who would even care? A strange man that looked strikingly like a dead prisoner and walked with a bit of a limp from a dog bite was found dead in an alleyway of who-knows-where, France. End of story. No more suffering, no more tears, no more desolate wandering like the past three years had been. It would be a dream come true to go to sleep one night and never wake up. But he knew that could never happen.

 _"When the morning skies grow red,"_ A voice sang, snapping Basch out of his depressed reverie. " _And over us their radiance shed."_

 _Oh, my God, that's my national anthem!_ Basch stopped visualizing his peaceful death and focused on the song. Someone out there was singing _his_ song! Perhaps they were Swiss too. What if this person recognized Basch? This could be his chance to be a real being again. But would they believe he was a dead man come back to life? No, nobody in their right mind would. You'd have to be absolutely insane to think that someone who'd been dead for a couple years would suddenly reappear far away from the location of their presumed death.

 _"Thou, O Lord, appeareth in their light_

 _When the Alps glow bright with splendor,_

 _Pray to God, to Him surrender_

 _for you feel and understand_

 _That he dwelleth in this land."_

The voice had a thick French accent and a certain calming quality about it, luring Basch into the song. It was almost as if Basch knew the stranger and his beautiful singing voice. There was a faint memory in the back of his head of this voice, of the voice singing as Basch worked on something. But why couldn't he place it?

" _In the sunset Thou art night_

 _and beyond the starry sky_

 _Thou, O loving father, ever near –"_

Basch made the connection. The voice belonged to someone he'd known for centuries, how could he forget? He tried to forget the fact that the two were cousins – maybe that's why he couldn't remember so easily. But the voice undoubtedly belonged to Francis Bonnefoy. He'd often heard his singing voice when they were working on something together, as Francis couldn't seem to work without singing. In the past this had led to many fights between them, as Basch preferred to work in silence, but he couldn't be happier to hear that voice now.

His heart racing, Basch came out of the alley and ran straight into the Frenchman.

"Oh, pardon me!" Francis said, holding a hand up to his mouth. "I didn't see you there!"

Basch couldn't say anything in reply. He stood there, looking over the man carefully. His golden curls, still a bit too long for Basch's taste, deep blue eyes, the stubble on his chin, the tiny bend in his nose from that time so many centuries ago that Arthur broke it, the scent of expensive cologne – Francis was still the same detestable man who could walk around in a nice suit during the middle of a war.

"Are you alright? Do you not speak French? Um, let me think…" Francis tapped his chin, trying to think of a different language to try.

"Oh, my God, I've never been this happy to see you," Basch gasped, pulling Francis into a tight hug. Of all the people he wanted to see, Francis was definitely very low on the list, but he didn't care anymore. There was someone in this world who knew who Basch really was. "I could kiss you right now!"

Francis recoiled a bit, startled that a man who he'd never seen before was now embracing him and saying that he could kiss him. "I'm so sorry, but have we met?" He asked in a shaky voice.

"I'm your little cousin! C'mon, Basch Zwingli! You hate me! Don't you remember me?" Basch said, looking up at Francis.

The Frenchman's whole polite demeanor changed, shoving Basch off of him. Basch stumbled backwards, startled by his sudden change. He'd never seen Francis so angry before. As a matter of fact, he'd never seen Francis this mad with anyone other than Arthur.

"This is not funny at all, monsieur. I do not know who you are, or how you know those things about Basch, but he is not something to joke about," Francis snarled, grabbing Basch by the collar of his shirt. He pinned the Swiss to the wall, eyes aflame with rage. "It is ridiculous how desperate for attention humans are now. I see you've gone as far as to get a tattoo to look just like Basch. Is that even the right number?"

Basch put a hand up to his number, rather insulted he'd been called a human begging for attention. "But this is real! Please, Francis, you have to believe me. I know that I'm supposed to be dead, but I'm not! That was a lie! I walked all the way here from Szczecin!"

"Lies! That was where he died, you fool!" Francis screamed, pushing Basch further into the brick wall.

"Here, I'll prove it to you! I'm trying to go see Lilli up in the Alps!" Basch knew that wouldn't be enough, so he racked his mind for anything he could say that only the two of them would know.

"Anyone could say something like that."

"Well, what about…" Basch fell short, trying to think of something, anything, to prove himself. If he lost this chance, he would never let himself live it up. He'd end up in another prison, under a lot more protection this time around for assaulting the representative of France. "That one time where you called me at three in the morning because you thought you were going to die? And it was really just when Ludwig was starting to cross the Maginot Line?" Basch prayed that Francis would remember that night. If not…Basch didn't want to think about that possibility.

Francis seemed to loosen up a bit, but still kept Basch pinned to the wall. "What was I doing that night?"

"You were at Antonio's house drinking!"

"And what did I ask you to do?"

Basch froze. He hadn't thought of that. "You…you asked me to…tell Arthur you hate him? Oh, you also said to make sure your cat was okay!"

"Oh, _mon Dieu_ , it is you," Francis said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But it can't be. Please tell me I'm not being haunted. I thought you were –"

"Dead?" Basch finished, letting Francis hug him this time.

"I never thought I'd ever see you again," Francis cried, holding Basch out for him to see. He was already in tears as he looked over Basch. "I'd heard there was someone who looked like you around the area, and I went to go investigate because I thought some con was pretending to be you, and _oh, look at you_! I've never been this happy to see my little hedgehog!" Francis kissed Basch's forehead like a loving mother, laughing through his tears. "Oh, dear, you look terrible. I can hardly recognize you. Come with me so I can get you all cleaned up. We have to get you back to your country. I'll call them the minute we get back and arrange things for you to get home. And then we'll send you home."

Basch shook his head. "I need to go see Lilli. You have to help me get to her. She's probably really worried. We can get to her by tomorrow at the very least!"

"Not now, Switzy. Please, let me help you. I have a house not too far from here – you can stay there until you get better, alright? You'll be good as new in no time. Now, how should I go about getting that ugly number off of you?" Francis wiped at his tears, a huge grin on his face.

Basch fell back into the Frenchman's arms, not bothering to hide his cries anymore. He was back to being Basch Zwingli, not this mysterious vagabond. Best of all, he was going to see Lilli. His beautiful little sister was never going to be alone again. The Swiss wasn't going to ever leave her once they were reunited.

"I never thought I'd be saying this, Francis, but, _God_ , I love you."

" _Je t'aime_ , Basch."

* * *

Ivan got away from his unpleasant incident with a few new scars and a nose that didn't quite heal straight. It took him some time to get adjusted to a scar running from his temple to his jaw line, and even more time for him to realize that his nose stuck out at an awkward angle. He was quite embarrassed about both of them, as they got plenty of stares. Yao finally got fed up with Ivan hiding his face and told him they were character marks and made him look manlier. The Russian perked right up after those comments, perhaps even showing off a bit. His humour had a way to brighten any day, no matter how horrible it was.

However, Ivan's jokes couldn't make their situation any better. Every night they all prayed to hear the air raid sirens wailing, meaning somebody was coming to save them. The few rare times they did hear them everyone scrambled up onto the roof to try and find where the planes were. Once they watched a dogfight just a few kilometers away, cheering for what they hoped were the Russian planes coming to their rescue. Much to their surprise, Raivis joined them up on the roof and shouted along with them. Ivan was very patriotic about the whole thing, using words against the Empire that would have him killed if Toris or Feliks heard. Every time a plane went down they hoped they were cheering the Russians on and not the enemy.

But when the Russian pilots were marched into camp the next morning and publicly executed, they realized the Empire had won.

Still, every night they gave that silent plea, that by some miracle someone would break through the Empire's lines and liberate them. They all said their prayers now – Gilbert and Roderich being the actual religious types, Ludwig, Ivan, and Yao being the _"I'm-desperate-enough-to-ask-for-help-so-don't-expect-any-formalities_ " type. There was nothing left to do but hope now.

And for three more years, all they could do was hope.

Everyone's optimism was vanishing by the day. There was no rush to make more plans to escape, as they felt as if getting out of the prison wasn't an option. No one heard about Basch, other than Feliks had said that he was dead and that was final. Three years had gone by since the escape – four since Ludwig and Gilbert's original capture – and everyone knew the world was still fighting. And Ludwig still couldn't shake the feeling that they were going to die. Every day was full of opportunities to find himself dead. Whether he did something wrong or got blamed for something, he was always running the risk of ending up in Toris' basement with a needle in his neck. Death still seemed like a far off and outlandish thought, even though it was a very real possibility. Elizabeta seemed a bit nervous about the subject, assuring him everything was going to be fine. All she said about her jumpiness on the subject of death was that she was scared Roderich would try to take his own life and that's why she got so upset. She knew more than she was letting on, much more.

Ludwig enjoyed the dreams even more than before now. They were his one escape from the horrors of the world around him. He didn't even care that he had no clue about what he was doing there. For now, he was content with living the boy's final month out talking with Elizabeta and that little girl, Feli. The dreams were still a rare treat; often he just fell into a deep sleep where there was nothing but darkness. But when he did get one of the dreams, he lived it to its fullest. It seemed that he'd even lost hope on unraveling the mysteries behind the dreams – he'd much rather irritate Roderich than try and figure out who the strange boy was.

And that's exactly what he was doing on this night at the end of yet another agonizingly slow autumn. He was coming up with creative ways to get Roderich mad, figuring that messing with the man's piano would be very entertaining. Not the extremely expensive one that Roderich loved more than anything else and Ludwig was under strict instructions not to touch, but the one in the parlor. Perhaps he could get it off tune. Or maybe he'd be able to remove some of the keys with Gilbert's help.

"You guys have to see this!" Ivan gasped, running into the cell block. He fell against the wall, panting. "It's… super important!"

"What could possibly be so urgent that I would feel the need to stop talking to Elizabeta?" Roderich snarled, putting the ring down.

Ivan held up a finger, trying to catch his breath. "Lukas…Bøndevik. He's on TV. Giving interview about…Poznan Experiments."

Everyone immediately stopped whatever they were doing.

"Are you serious?" Gilbert asked excitedly. "Where did you see this?"

"Raivis and Eduard let me into the office to watch. Feliks and the demon are out on a date or something in Szczecin and won't be back until very late, so we'll be safe."

Following Ivan, the five of them set out for the office. The guards opened the gates for them after Ivan explained to them what was happening in Polish. They didn't even seem to care, opening the gates halfway through Ivan's explanation. On any normal day they would've put Ivan in solitary confinement or shot at him for trying something like that, but they seemed much calmer and less trigger happy tonight.

"God, what took you so long?" Eduard shouted as they came into the office.

"Sorry," Ivan apologized. "I had to go run and get them."

"Whatever. Just get over here. Sorry for the disaster, we were organizing and mailing the reports." Eduard motioned with his fingers for the five of them to sit down on the floor by Raivis and him, as the couch was currently occupied with stacks of paper. Raivis glanced up from his pile of envelopes and folded papers, flashing the five of them a reassuring grin.

At first Ludwig was a bit apprehensive about being this close to someone who could have him killed in an instant for saying the wrong thing, but he quickly revoked that fear once he heard Lukas' familiar calm voice. Someone was finally saying something about the horrors of the camps. And Eduard didn't seem like the man to have him executed.

The interview was a Finnish broadcast, as the Nordic country was one of the few who chose to remain neutral. However, this meant that all the voice-overs and subtitles were in Finnish. Ludwig sat for a moment trying to make sense of the strange language, but he couldn't even pick out a similar word.

"They just said Lukas was living in captivity for four years before his release," Eduard translated, sealing another envelope and putting it in a box full of them. "This was recorded two weeks after his release three years ago. The papers on his imprisonment have been found and are currently being decoded. Forty-two known experiments were preformed on Lukas Bøndevik before his release. This is the untold story of Number TT-2004, Lukas Bøndevik."

"Did they say forty-two?" Roderich asked in a quiet voice.

"Personally, I thought there were fifty-one. Crap, I hope my records aren't wrong." Raivis grabbed a huge binder overflowing with papers from the couch, flipping through the pages. He stopped on a page labeled 2004; looking at a small chart he'd drawn. "No, there were definitely fifty-one."

"I could've mistranslated. But I'm pretty sure that's what they said. Perhaps they missed the others? They did say that there were forty-two known ones."

"Continue on!" Gilbert snapped.

Eduard reached over and flicked him in the head. "Listen, I'm the one in charge here. And they're just talking the basic set up of Poznan. Nothing too terribly interesting quite yet. Oh, viewer discretion is advised for descriptive violence. Think you all can handle that?"

"How could we not handle it if our lives are constantly full of violence? We should be able to watch the story of our days, da?" Ivan laughed.

"Okay, now they're talking about the interesting stuff. Lukas endured several rounds of the newly tested weapon, radium injections. The Empire – that's us, Raivis! – has produced this new injection. The concentration of radium is high enough to kill a normal man with less than…um, I don't recognize that word. Some number, but who cares? It's around one milliliter or something like that. But for personified countries it shuts down their immortality complex. No one is quite sure how the immortality complex works yet, but the radium immediately attacks it. According to stolen Polish documents, the complex is located near the heart."

"So why don't they just dissect one of us to figure out what it is?" Yao said, curling up next to Ivan.

"Shh, don't give them ideas! Two of them are in the room right now!" Gilbert hissed.

"Lukas, what does it feel like to be injected by the radium?" Eduard said in an irritating falsetto voice, mocking the female reporter.

For the first time in seven years, Ludwig saw the man he'd always known as Norway. His initial thought was Lukas looked hopelessly depressed. He'd never been a bubbly person, but his eyes looked void of any signs of life, dark lines beneath them. The Norwegian's cheeks were sunken in, his cheekbones prominent. He was trying to hide all the tiny scars and marks with his blond curls and his number on his neck was barely visible at the top of his turtleneck sweater. The simplest way to put it was that he looked dead.

"Have you ever burnt yourself very badly?" Eduard tried to imitate Lukas' monotone voice, his accent throwing off the whole thing. "It was like being burned that horribly on the inside. As if someone set your heart on fire. But that's only the first stage. Then it's more of a stabbing, unbearable pain, like you're being run through with a thousand swords. And then it finally goes into a constricting sort of pain so bad you can hardly breathe. This continues on for a long time. A few hours later it all fades away and you can't even tell you were injected."

"And how many times did you have to endure this torment?" Eduard asked in the falsetto voice.

"I lost count after ten. But I can assure you there were many, many more occasions than ten. It was just after that I gave up most of my confidence and stopped thinking I could be rescued."

"Didn't you keep any hope?"

"I want you to look me right in the eyes and ask that again. Imagine you live in a world full of sharp pains and the occasional shot of anesthesia, you are almost always chained to the bed, everyone speaks a foreign language, and no one will even tell you what day it is. Does it seem like you would have any hope? Hope is such an overused word by humanity – I hope this'll happen, I hope they'll be okay. Those are just wants or false words said to comfort others. Real hope is so hard to come across anymore. It's a feeling that should be found in the darkest moments, not when someone gets a little hurt. It's a fighting spirit – something to make you keep going because you know the outcome will be better than the hell you've had to go through. But when every moment is darker than the last, hope becomes something unattainable. It runs far away from you. You try to keep it with you, but it's just out of reach."

"Well, God, isn't he uplifting?" Gilbert muttered. "Way to make us feel better about our situation, Lukas."

"Even I'm not this depressing. And I'm a suicidal widower," Roderich said.

"Did you ever think of your family? Wouldn't that give you hope?" Eduard asked in his high pitched voice.

Lukas started to say something, but stopped. He hung his head, hiding his eyes. "I'm sorry," he apologized, his voice trembling. "I tried not to, honestly. Thinking of them only made me feel worse. I would start to think about Den or my baby brother and start sobbing. Even Sve or Fin was enough to bring me to tears. And if I started to cry, the scientists took advantage of that. There were even more gruesome experiments preformed when I cried. So I was forced in an indirect way to stop thinking of my family. But I would still think about them at night and they were often in my nightmares with me."

"What was your first reaction when you got off the plane and saw your family standing there?"

"Oh, my God, Matthias still has the time to spike his hair up like that. We're in the middle of a war encompassing the world right now and he still spikes up his hair. What a nerd," Lukas said, giving the reporter a tiny smile.

"Okay, that wasn't exactly what I expected. Perhaps your second thought?"

Lukas laughed to himself a bit, something no one had ever seen him do. "I didn't have time for a second thought. They all started talking and crying and hugging me. Especially Matthias. He wouldn't let me go for the next two days. He was always right there at my side, holding my hand like a little boy to make sure I didn't leave. He even slept in the same bed as me." Upon seeing the reporter's startled expression, Lukas' face immediately went red. "We didn't, you know, _do_ anything! He's just a bit protective, since we've known each other for so long. I think he was scared that someone was going to take me away again. Matthias is pretty much the reason I don't have a guard dog."

"You said he was doing this for two days?"

"On the third day I told him I didn't want to hold his hand anymore and he stopped, but I thought he was going to cry. Then he started to work on the number on my neck. He sat there with rubbing alcohol, swiping at my skin until I finally said to him that it wasn't a temporary tattoo and we were actually going to have to do something about it."

"Can I see this number of yours?"

Lukas pulled at the collar of his sweater, showing the black numbers. But he had letters in front of his numbers, two t's. "I'm number TT-2004. The TT stands for test subject. _Temat testu._ I actually respond better to being called 2004 now than I do to Lukas or Norway. _"_

"Is this a tattoo?" The reporter asked, gently touching the number.

"No, it's burned into my skin. It used to read 2005, but the old 2004 died a few weeks after my arrival and they rebranded me by tearing off the five, waiting for it to heal, and stamping the four on."

The reporter immediately recoiled, pulling her hand back quickly. Lukas' eyes lit up a bit as he saw the disgust on her face, amused with her surprise.

"Did you ever think how similar this was to the Nazis' methods?" She said, regaining her composure.

"I always wondered why they weren't doing something original. The world's already seen this, Empire of Poland-Lithuania. It doesn't scare anyone. Perhaps if you were doing something a bit more, unique, shall we say, then the world would be much more afraid. In case you have forgotten, the Nazis lost. Good always prevails over evil. _So, Eduard, I want you to think long and hard about that. You know, I used to like you. But after all you've done, I never want to see you or your brothers ever again. I hope your demise is a painful one, you horrid beast."_ Lukas said the last three sentences in perfect Estonian, Eduard unconsciously translating into English, completely confusing the reporter and the seven of them in the office's living room.

"Burn!" Gilbert shouted.

"Oh, my God, he must really hate you," Raivis laughed, giving Eduard a playful shove. "I can't believe he'd call you out like that on TV."

"I don't care. He's right, isn't he? And you're in the same boat with me. Don't think you're out of this just because you're the little one," Eduard smiled, returning Raivis' shove.

* * *

Hundreds of kilometers away, Francis paced back and forth in front of Basch, trying to come to a decision. He'd been doing this for some time now, and it was quite frankly irritating the hell out of the Swiss.

"No, that colour just doesn't suit you."

"Dear God, this is the fourth jacket I've tried on today! Aren't they all the same?"

Francis put a hand to his chest, seeming quite offended by Basch's remark. "No, they are not! You want to make a good impression, right? So we have to find the best one for you. Remember, you have to make an extravagant entrance! This has to be absolutely _magnifique_!"

"Come on, can't we just go yet?" Basch loosened his black tie, letting Francis remove his jacket. The Frenchman disappeared into his closet, coming back with yet another jacket. Why did Basch ever let the man go shopping yesterday? He'd come back with way more clothes that Basch had ever owned. In the past all Basch needed was a military uniform. There weren't all of these fancy outfits and things.

"Okay, let's try this one. I have a good feeling about this," Francis sighed, sounded about as exhausted as Basch was.

" _Good feeling._ I had a good feeling with the first one, but it wasn't right," Basch muttered to himself, pulling the jacket on. "There. How much do you hate this one?"

Francis put a hand over his mouth, making it so Basch couldn't tell if he was contemplating or extremely angry. "Oh, that's perfect! Absolutely perfect!"

"Perfect?" Basch echoed, looking at himself in the mirror. He couldn't tell the difference between this jacket and the first. They appeared to be the same colour, same style, same everything. "It looks just like the other four."

"Oh, no, it's just right! Of course, _you_ wouldn't know a thing about anything fashionable. Now, I have a few things to add before we can go," Francis said, grabbing what looked like a coloured pencil from the nightstand.

"What is that?" Basch asked, pointing to the strange little pencil.

"Eyeliner."

"No! Do not put that on me! My God, I'm a man! _You_ may think it's socially acceptable to do things like that, but I refuse to wear makeup like some little girl!" Basch stepped away from Francis, instinctively reaching for his switchblade. But it wasn't in his pocket anymore. Damn it, where had he put his knife?

"Calm down. I'm not going to use it on your eyes. Although," Francis said arrogantly. "You would look rather nice with –"

"Don't even try anything!"

"Okay, okay, I was just joking. You should lighten up a bit. Now, come here and let me work."

Basch slowly went back over to him, wondering just what he was intending on doing. He was startled when Francis started outlining the number on his neck with the black pencil, colouring in the numbers carefully.

"May I ask what you're doing?" Basch snapped.

"Your number has faded over the years. I want it to look dramatic. People should be able to see it easily – it's a silent reminder of the pain and suffering you've been through. It should be a symbol of hope, that no matter the challenge you can overcome it," Francis answered, putting the eyeliner back on the table.

"That's way too metaphorical for me. It's just a stupid number."

"Oh, you believe what you want." Francis rolled his eyes, pinning a cluster of edelweiss to Basch's lapel. "The rest of humanity will agree with me."

"I don't want to be known as number 140084 for the rest of my life. I'd like it better if the thing was gone," Basch said, touching the number. He hated how he could feel each number, raised just a little bit from scarring and countless rebranding. Tracing his fingers over the eight and the four, Basch wondered how easily it could be removed.

"Don't touch. It'll smudge," Francis scolded, taking Basch's hand away. "And it's unique. It makes you recognizable for good reasons. Unlike how you were known before: violent, angry, prone to outbursts, short tempered, short in general." Francis listed Basch's faults off on his fingers, trying to come up with more.

"Whatever. Let's go already."

* * *

The drive to Bern felt like it took an eternity, especially since Francis wouldn't keep quiet for more than a few seconds. Basch tried to ignore the chatty Frenchman, instead focusing on the countryside. Sure, the French countryside was beautiful, but the Swiss side seemed ten thousand times better to Basch – although there really wasn't much of a difference. There was a wondrous feeling that overtook him when they crossed over the border and Basch wasn't stopped and told that he could be jailed for imposing as a dead man. He was trying his best not to cry when he saw the mountains in the distance – _his_ mountains. No longer was he in someone else's land. This was all his. And no one could take it away.

"Are you crying?"

Basch glared at Francis, scrubbing at his eyes. "Do you have a problem with my national pride?"

"No, I was just asking a question. I think it's fine to cry." Francis shook his head, laughing a bit. "To tell you the truth, if I'd been through what you've been through I would already be hysterical."

"Thank you, Francis."

"What for? Being nice about your ' _national pride?'_ "

"No," Basch sighed, looking over at his cousin. "For keeping me for all this time. Without you I'd still be a homeless man."

"Well, did you just expect me to leave you there? I may be mean, but I'm not that _mean_ ," Francis smiled.

"But we're enemies, right? You're for the Empire, I'm against it. Why didn't you just lock me up or leave me there?" Basch asked, just now realizing that he could've been shipped right back to Szczecin. Francis could've taken him and handed him right over to the enemy in an instant.

Francis didn't reply for a very long time, which was quite odd of the normally talkative man. "To tell you the truth, I was too excited at the time to think of what I should do. And then a few days afterwards I realized that I needed to send you back. I started to make arrangements with my boss. They were supposed to come get you yesterday." Francis glanced at Basch shamefully, tucking a few stray curls behind his ear. "I was almost going to let them take you, too. But then I went to go grab you early in the morning and I knew I couldn't go through with the plans. You didn't have all those scars on your back when I last saw you. What happened in Szczecin?"

"Oh, those?" Basch laughed, holding up his hand to show off some of the disappearing scars. "Hell, those are just Toris Marks. No big deal."

"Toris Marks?" Francis repeated, raising an eyebrow in question.

"Everyone – well, everyone at our little camp – has them. Your Toris Marks tell others how uncooperative you are. The more you have, the more difficult you are. It's sort of like some sick status system. Difficult people are given higher treatment among the prisoners because you're basically saying, ' _look at me; I can stand up to the devil. I'm better than you.'_ Brave ones fight over that damned crown to get to that aristocracy. Ivan was the king when I left. God, you think I look bad, you should see him!"

"But why the name?"

"Toris gives them to you, ergo the name Toris Marks," Basch explained. "He gets his pleasure from watching others suffer and bleed. He's actually shot a few people in front of me just to make a point. There's always a public execution once a month or so. Once we had ten of them at once. But most of the time he'll just cut you or whip you, though. If you do something really wrong, he'll lock you up for a night or two in his basement, get drunk, and tear you up. And then you get dragged back to your cell and Yao stitches you up."

"Oh, God, I am so sorry I ever even thought of sending you back. I put the pieces together when I saw your scars. It really started when I saw the number on your neck, but I wanted to pretend that was just a terrible choice on your part. Truly, I didn't think there were so many horrors going on behind that curtain. But now you're telling me all of this. _Cher Dieu,_ how could I ever be so blind?"

Basch put a tentative hand on Francis' arm. "You're not blind. You were blindfolded. They work in ways like that – putting a blindfold on the world while they kill people left and right and then remove the blindfold at certain times just so the world thinks everything's okay."

"But I wasn't just an innocent passerby! I bought into their lies – hell, I'm still allied with them as we speak!" Francis shouted.

"I don't think you'll be allied with them anymore after they learn that I'm still alive and you helped me."

"You're right," Francis sighed, looking over at Basch. "I'll be dead."

A long period of silence followed after that remark, because both of them knew it was true.

When they arrived at Basch's tiny home outside of Bern, the Swiss was surprised to see so many people there to greet him. They could hardly go two steps without someone calling out his name or hugging him. A little girl gave Basch a flower crown, which he let her put on his head. And for the first time since being reunited with Francis, he was actually smiling.

Of course his people were excited to see him. The whole country thought their beloved representative was dead. Swiss flags were everywhere, making a path up to his front door. Basch tried to keep a straight face the whole time, but when Francis and him finally made it to the front door, Basch couldn't help but start crying. He hadn't been home in so many years, he hadn't seen his people in longer, and now they were doing all of this for him.

"Oh, dear, you can't cry yet. You haven't even seen the best part," Francis smiled, opening the door for Basch.

And who was there to greet him?

Lilli threw herself into Basch's arms, hugging him so tightly he couldn't breathe. Basch picked the girl up, holding her like they could be torn apart at any minute. When was the last time he'd even seen her? He'd forgotten how his heart melted when she hugged him, how her small hands could barely touch when she put her arms around Basch's chest, the way her hair ribbon tickled Basch's neck. The two were in tears as they held each other, unable to say anything. All they could do was cry, but they understood each other. They knew the longing and love in the embrace, the desperation for each other. Words weren't necessary.

He didn't ever want to let go of her again.

* * *

 **A/N: Hello!**

 **Sadly, I have to return to school this week. So there will be no more middle of the week chapters. I'm so sorry, I have to return to learn about things instead of wasting my time away writing. But my final little break moment before going back is I get the pleasure of visiting the WWI Museum tomorrow, and I can't say if I'm excited or a bit depressed.**

 **I write these sad words as my whole family watches MST3K, making me laugh so hard I can hardly type. So they aren't exactly sad for me, as I can't seem to stop laughing.**

 **Thank you to** ThePrincessofKatz **,** Rayline Li **,** **and my two good noodles,** Seele Esser Deutsch **and** Comix and Co **! I worry about all of you sometimes, and I hope you're all doing well. It would pain me to learn if one of you were sick or hurt. I love you!**

 **See you next chapter!**


	21. Crazy Ex-Girlfriend

The seven of them finished Lukas' interview right as Toris and Feliks walked in the door. Eduard instantly stood up and started yelling at them to make it seem like he wasn't being so friendly. Thankfully, Toris and Feliks didn't stop to listen, as Eduard was screaming about why Lukas was a good man and how adorable his little curl was. Toris barely acknowledged Eduard, making a small motion with his hand in the Estonian's direction. He went upstairs with Feliks, laughing about something. Once the Estonian was sure the two were out of earshot, he turned off the TV and ushered everyone outside. He assured everyone that he wouldn't say anything – somehow, Ludwig knew they could trust him. Raivis promised them the same thing, adding that Toris probably wouldn't be in a good mood tomorrow morning and not to mess with him.

"What fun is there in that?" Gilbert asked.

"Well, you see," Raivis started, shifting uncomfortably. "When Feliks and Toris go out, he usually ends up staying up late or getting drunk…And that can lead to some bad choices on his part. So he'll probably be very short-tempered, especially if he wakes up in the same bed as Feliks. Things go south very fast from there and there's usually a huge fight between the two. Last time Eduard almost ended up with a bullet in his chest because he asked if anyone had seen his belt. I don't want you to get caught up in their silly fights and get hurt."

"We won't," Ivan said, ruffling Raivis' hair. "Thank you, _moy malen'kiy drug."_

"Oh, so I don't get any special treatment for allowing you in our presence and not killing you?" Eduard huffed.

Ivan gave him a gentle shove, his usual show of affection for anyone other than Yao. "Like you deserve anything."

"I'll see you later, okay? Please, take my brother's advice. I'm really trying to get you out of here alive," Eduard said, giving them all a mock salute. With a sad goodbye, he sent them back towards the prison.

The winter winds picked up as they walked back, swirling dead leaves about in an almost ghostly manner. Ivan seemed to believe it was the work of General Winter, rambling on about how much he hated the spirit. At first no one wanted to believe that winter was really coming – snow and cold winds made for torturous roll calls, assignments to clear the snow, and numerous fights between everyone. There was just something that irritated everyone during the winter, especially Toris. He didn't do well with cold weather at all, taking that anger out on the five of them. Everyone feared the snow and the misery it brought along.

And soon their fears were confirmed; before they even reached the gate tiny white flakes were falling down from the sky.

By the time they were back in their cell block the snow was coming down steadily. As everyone prepared for bed, Ludwig stood at the barred window and watched the snowflakes fall to the ground. Ludwig secretly admired the snow's beauty, how it could turn anything into a glistening wonderland – even a horrid place like Bolesność. It truly was a sight, until footprints and blood marred the delicateness of it all. Humans and Toris just _had_ to ruin everything. After that snow just became another problem, but for those few moments it gave Ludwig a bit of delight. He liked the memories of home it brought up, of warm blankets and taking his brother and dogs out to play in the white powder.

"What do you think Eduard meant by he's trying to get us out of here alive?" Gilbert asked, snapping Ludwig out of his happy snow fantasy.

"He probably just wants us to live. I don't really think he's as messed up as Toris and Feliks are," Ludwig answered.

"Oh, definitely not," Ivan added. "Eduard is the rebellious one of the three – well, four, if you include the little Polish brat – he doesn't want to follow anyone else. So it makes sense that he wouldn't follow the others."

"That's going to get him killed," Yao said.

"Well, aren't you just the most positive thing?" Gilbert mocked, lying down.

"What, don't you think he'll do something out of his league and get himself executed, aru?" Yao asked, looking at Ivan for support. This was how he won most of his arguments – Ivan fought strongly for Yao.

"Don't pull me into this. It's Eduard's choice with what he's going to do, not mine. You two can fight all night if you want to," Ivan yawned.

Yao crossed his arms, frustrated with Ivan's response. "Good night to you too."

As Ludwig was trying to fall asleep, his mind wandered to Holy Rome. Did he enjoy the snow too? The two seemed to be very similar, so he must've. He paused for a moment, thinking about the boy and himself. They were almost _too_ similar. At a glance he could overlook it, but now that he was really thinking about it, it was very suspicious. Same hair, same eyes, same likes and dislikes, same name, and the same brother even. Ludwig found himself wondering if they were related somehow, sharing a brother and all. Was Holy Rome a long lost brother of his? He would have to be, if Gilbert was Holy Rome's big brother. Perhaps Ludwig and the boy were even twins, separated at birth. He'd heard of stories where twins were separated and lived nearly identical lives. What if –

 _No, you've gone completely crazy now,_ Ludwig told himself, shooting down the idea of a secret brother. What could've ever possessed him to think something like that? _There's no possible way we could be twins. He seems to be much, much older than me. There has to be some little way our stories entwine, but I don't believe that it could be blood relations. And there's the whole issue of Roderich somehow being the boy's father. Dear God, if Roderich was my father, I would've killed myself already. The only real way we could be related is if we're the same person._

 _What a ridiculous idea._

* * *

 _"You heard me right, Roderich."_

 _"No, you're just joking. Please, tell me this is some kind of sick joke of yours. You can't possibly be serious."_

 _"What did he say? I couldn't hear," Feli asked quietly, tapping on Ludwig's shoulder._

 _Ludwig turned to face her, a finger pressed to his mouth as a silent reminder to keep absolutely quiet. Feli hung her head in shame, but stopped talking. The walls weren't paper thin, but Ludwig feared any noise would alert Roderich and Gilbert that there were two uninvited listeners. This was definitely a conversation the pair wasn't supposed to hear – lots of adult words and slurs were being used. There would be a severe punishment if they were caught, presumably involving Roderich's riding crop. Other secretive talks Ludwig eavesdropped on would never get him in as much trouble as this one would._

 _It wasn't Ludwig's fault the two were so loud. He'd just been minding his own business, thinking about the snow that awaited him tomorrow in Bolesność. Then the two had come upstairs and locked the bedroom door. Of course he was curious, so Ludwig went over to the wall and started listening. And then Feli came in, scared by all the shouting. This talk had quickly turned from a semi-polite conversation to a violent screaming match. It was quite obvious that Gilbert was drunk, his words slurring a bit and his temper much more fiery than usual. He threw things, shouted curses, smashed his fists on the wall, and even cried a bit. Roderich was trying his best to reason calmly with the man, but so far his efforts had been in vain._

 _"It's not a joke. I am going to leave, whether you like it or not. Find someone else to dump your problems on. Or better yet, be a real man and figure things out on your own. Oh, wait, you don't know how to step up and take care of things," Gilbert sneered, stomping his foot._

 _"What about our family? Don't you care about Elizabeta or Bash and Lilli, or what about little ones?" Roderich asked gently, his voice much more calming than usual. "Think about someone besides yourself for once. Ludwig is going to be in tears when he learns you're leaving. The poor boy loves you, and you're going to abandon him for your country? Can this at least wait until he's gone?"_

 _"Listen, I have to go. I can't just sit around and watch you and Ludwig die. My country needs me."_

 _"For what? You aren't right on the edge of a certain revolt or an impending war. Can you please stay until Ludwig leaves? What do you value more – your people or your family?"_

 _"Do you really think Gilbert is going to leave?" Feli whispered, glancing at Ludwig._

 _Ludwig started to answer, but his brother burst out into laughter, hiccupping in between the fits. "Family?" He gasped, unable to stop laughing. "Roddy, darling, the only family I need is my country! I have my leader, I have my people, I have my land! Who cares about Luddy? He's just a little brat that's in my way right now. God, I wish I could get rid of him right now! He's just slowing me down."_

 _Ludwig slowly took his ear away from the wall, just now registering his brother's words. Blinking quickly, he tried to imagine that he'd heard Gilbert wrong. But soon he was fighting back tears, biting down on the inside of his cheek. Crying in front of Feli wasn't an option. The boy wasn't going to let her see how distraught he was by his brother's words. Even though he wanted to start sobbing right now, weakness was something Gilbert taught him to never show anyone._

 _But Gilbert didn't even love him. Those words were all faked. All those times he'd given the boy lessons on warfare and life morals were just a show he was putting on._

 _Was their whole relationship just a lie? Gilbert was secretly loathing every moment with the boy, wishing he could get back to his country? Did that hate carry over from whatever time this was to the present – did the brother Ludwig knew in the present world still detest Ludwig? It seemed all wrong, so, so wrong. Ludwig knew Gilbert loved him. That was undeniable. If he'd really hated Ludwig so much, Gilbert wouldn't have let the boy practice fencing with him, or helped him get Roderich's piano out of tune, he wouldn't still be messing with Toris when the Lithuanian got mad at Ludwig to keep him safe. There was no way he'd risk getting in trouble if he despised Ludwig. He'd just had too much to drink tonight, and didn't know what he was saying. Yes, that had to be it. The Prussian didn't mean a word that he said._

 _Swallowing hard, Ludwig wiped at his eyes and pressed his ear back to the wall. "… To take over the world – and you two are dragging me down into your stupid empire!" Gilbert snarled. "You'll be dead in a few months at this rate, taking one of my chains off. Once Ludwig's dead, I'll be able to get through –"_

"Stop it!" _Roderich shouted so loudly Ludwig fell back from the wall, startled by the outburst. Feli caught him, her hands trembling in fright. They stared at the wall like it was a monster – Roderich had never screamed like that. "You stop that right now! Do you have any idea what you're saying?!"_

 _"I know perfectly well what I'm saying! You're in my way, Ludwig's in my way. I want to leave!"_

 _"Do you realize that he's probably listening to our conversation right now? That little boy is going off to war all alone in a few days, and here you are – his big brother, whom he's always looked up to – yelling about how much you detest him! You're such a selfish bastard, Prussia! You and your whole country!" Roderich's voice was unnaturally high as he shouted, his words harsh and accusing. "I didn't think you were this heartless! I could've sworn that you actually cared about something for once! I can't believe that you'd … You know what? Go! I don't want to see your damned face here anymore! I'll take care of Ludwig, and you go do whatever your country needs! I'll be there for him in these months where he's going to need someone the most! At least I know where my loyalties lie, you mongrel!"_

 _"My loyalties have always been with my country! I was only here for my entertainment! This whole empire was a joke! Goodbye, Roddy. God bless your sorry ass. I hope you die a painful, bloody, agonizingly slow death! Because I'm sure as hell not going to! I'm going to go and take care of my country, while you can get yourself killed by a tiny Frenchman!"_

 _"Good riddance! Just get out of this house immediately! Don't you dare say a word to Ludwig, you hear me? You leave that boy alone! He's done nothing wrong," Roderich started to choke up, making Gilbert laugh again._

 _"Go on, cry! Cry, you pathetic excuse of a man! That's the only thing you're good for! Vati himself said so!"_

 _"So what if I show human emotions?" Roderich snapped. "That's better than being a cold hearted son of a bitch like you!"_

 _"Vati knew you were the weakest out of all of us," Gilbert taunted. "He didn't ever love you, either, just pretending like I did with Ludwig. I'm surprised he didn't kill you when he had the chance."_

 _There was a long pause where Ludwig couldn't hear anything. For a moment he thought Roderich had just shut up and Gilbert left, but then Roderich said, "Vati wouldn't have abandoned his family for his country. He wouldn't approve of any of this. Don't think you're so high and righteous because you care for your nation."_

 _"Vati would approve, dumbass. Because he didn't let himself be bogged down by weaker countries. I'm saving myself, just like Vati would've. Maybe you should've paid more attention to his lessons and you would know these things."_

 _"You need to leave, right now. If you're not out of my house by morning, I will have you killed," Roderich growled._

 _"Oh,_ so _threatening. And this is your house now? Funny, I thought we all owned it. I can't wait until I see Napoléon kill your whole army. I'm going to be there, laughing my head off." And with that, Gilbert slammed the door and stomped away._

 _"Get out! Get out of here right now!" Roderich shouted after him._

 _Ludwig jumped up from his spot, throwing open the door. Feli called for him, running over to his side after she noticed that Ludwig wasn't answering. Gilbert stormed past them, pushing the boy out of his way. Ludwig started to growl an insult, but Feli grabbed his hand and shook her head no. Roderich followed close behind Gilbert, his violet eyes ablaze with anger. The Prussian tried to go into his room to grab what little personal possessions he had, but Roderich got in the way and pointed at the staircase. After he realized that Roderich wasn't moving, Gilbert rolled his eyes and went downstairs. With another loud slam of the front door, he was gone._

 _"Is he really leaving?" Ludwig asked, looking up at Roderich nervously._

 _"He better be. Don't you worry, everything will be fine." Roderich got down on his knees, looking less upset about the whole event than Ludwig expected. "Listen, we have to do a few things. Can you go find the others?"_

 _Ludwig nodded, running off to go find them. His mission was rather easy – Basch was practicing his knife throwing skills, using a portrait of Charlemagne as a target, while Elizabeta and Lilli were trying to stop him. The three seemed a bit reluctant to come with the boy, probably since they'd heard the screaming match. But after he explained what happened, Basch dropped the knife and followed after Ludwig almost too eagerly. Elizabeta and Lilli hung back, quietly talking in a language Ludwig couldn't understand._

 _When he returned with the two, Roderich was tearing Gilbert's bedroom apart. Feli was trying to make him stop, tugging at the man's shirt and getting between him and whatever he was after next. But the Austrian was livid, stepping around the girl to throw more of Gilbert's clothes out on the floor. She tried pushing against his legs, only to get shoved to the ground. Ludwig ran to her side, startled to find the girl crying. He didn't know what to do to comfort her and he was afraid to touch her. After a few seconds of serious deliberation if he could gather the courage to hold her – all while Roderich was trashing the room with Basch's enthusiastic help – he finally pulled the girl into a hug._

 _She immediately stopped crying, looking at Ludwig with confusion in her amber eyes. "What…what are you doing?"_

 _"I'm sorry!" Ludwig let her go, his face hot with embarrassment. "I didn't mean to upset you! I was just trying to –"_

 _Feli threw herself back into Ludwig's arms, burying her face in his chest. Only then did Ludwig realize how strange this situation really was, with Roderich shouting curses about Gilbert and Basch laughing as they ripped apart the Prussian's bedroom. But soon that thought faded away, focusing on the sweet little girl in his arms. He felt horrible that Holy Rome was going to have to leave her to go to war. And even worse that he'd soon be dead and the poor children would never get to see each other again._

 _"I love you."_

 _Ludwig snapped out of his thoughts, wondering if he'd really heard the girl say that. It could just be a trick of the mind, or –_

 _"Roderich! Stop this, right now!" Elizabeta ordered in a tone of voice that meant she was not to be opposed._

 _"Please, Mr. Austria, you're scaring everyone," Lilli added, attempting a more calm approach._

 _"That's too bad!" He shouted back, grabbing a handful of letters from the desk and tearing them up. "Basch, grab that trunk from under the bed and start filling it with his things. I'm going to go build a fire."_

 _"No, you're not!" Elizabeta tried to stop him, but Roderich pushed her out of the way and stormed downstairs._

 _Sometime later, there was a giant fire burning in their yard. Roderich and Basch were throwing all of Gilbert's things into the flames – Elizabeta and Lilli had given up on making the two stop. Ludwig watched on as his brother's books, a Prussian flag, war medals, and letters from countless kings of Prussia got eaten up by the flames. The history of Prussia was being burnt to ashes._

 _"Ludwig, come here," Elizabeta said quietly. Ludwig left Feli, coming over to her side. She knelt down to be at eye-level with the boy, leaning in close so no one else could hear her words._

 _"Just a few more weeks left," she whispered, the firelight making her green eyes sparkle._

 _"Until what? Holy Rome's death? My own death? I am going to live, right?"_

 _Elizabeta shook her head, smiling. "No, dear, someone is coming for you. I can't say who exactly, but there's only three weeks left. And then we'll be our happy little family again."_

* * *

"It's snowing!" Toris yelled, slamming open the cell house door. He was overly enthusiastic for this early in the morning, bearing a huge grin that Ludwig couldn't tell was faked or not. The Lithuanian seemed to have his generic sweet yet sadistic attitude this morning, if not a bit more sugary. Ludwig couldn't decide which was more unsettling; the strange manner or that sick grin of his.

"It's my favourite time of the year," he added. Two boxes were tucked under his arm with the Red Cross symbol on them – the first Red Cross packages anyone had even seen while being here. Were they actually going to get to them? Ludwig couldn't even begin to imagine what could be in those cardboard boxes of wonder.

"And I know it's your favorite time too," he beamed, twirling the keys. "Since Christmas is so close, I decided to give you an early present." He shifted the boxes a bit, making it almost painfully obvious what he was intending on giving them.

"What? Are you finally going to kill us? Who feels like dying today?" Gilbert asked, pretending to be ignorant of the boxes.

"I think all of us!" Ivan answered.

"Can I go first?" Roderich said.

"No one is going to die! I enjoy watching your suffering, remember? Anyway, do you recall how there used to be six of you?"

"Did you finally catch Basch?" Roderich asked quietly. "If you're going to kill him, I'll trade him places. And I will be much more compliant."

"No, we didn't catch him, and _no_ , you are not going to die. Nobody is going to commit suicide either, unless you have written permission from me, Warsaw, and Vilnius," Toris said, glancing over at Roderich suspiciously.

"What will it take to get me that permission?"

"No, I am not going to give you that luxury. You're just going to have to wait for your death like everyone else."

"I'll give you all of my country."

Toris pinched the bridge of his nose, getting a bit frustrated with the Austrian's death wish. "I am not going to hand it over so easily. Anyway, we are completely off track. Your sixth person managed to get out alive. He decided to write you a letter, which has been rotting on my desk for a few weeks. And me being the absolutely generous enslaver I am, I decided to let you hear what he said." He held up an envelope that had a rather large bloodstain on the corner. Did they even want to know whose blood it was?

Toris tore the envelope open, removing the letter. Unfolding it, he started to read it to them out loud.

 _"Dear Ludwig, Gilbert, Ivan, Yao, and the man who is so pathetically lazy he gets tired walking to the mailbox,"_ Toris started. "Huh, I wonder who that last one is."

Roderich glared at the letter as if it were Basch himself. Basch knew what words to use to get on Roderich's nerves, and it didn't help that Toris was reading them.

 _"If you are reading this, either you've escaped or my friend did his job. I'm assuming the latter, as Roderich wouldn't make it that far."_

Roderich crossed his arms like a child, quietly cursing the Swiss.

 _"I finally made it home. I'm with Lilli now, so don't worry about her. The rest who were with her are safe too, although slightly irritated with me. Especially the younger one. I think she wants me dead, or perhaps she wants all of us dead. There have been a few incidences with weapons here. Oh, my, the looks she gives me across the dining table. Francis tries to keep her calm, but that French charm doesn't work on demons. You'd think her temper worse than mine. Ask Gilbert who they are."_ Toris turned to him, tapping his foot expectantly. "Who are these people, Gilbert?"

"Luddy's dogs – Blackie, Berlitz, and Aster," he lied, looking over at Ivan.

Ivan wasn't the best at hiding his enthusiasm. He had a large grin and twinkling eyes, the way he always was when he spoke of his siblings. Every night he asked Yao how he thought his sisters were doing, to which Yao replied, "Fine. Now, go to sleep." The Russian was always worried about his sisters, talking to Yao late into the nights about them. Sometimes he was laughing about the two, sometimes he was in tears. But now all the fear could go away, as he knew they were okay. Even though Basch said that Natalia was trying to kill everyone.

 _"Sorry no one else could escape. I couldn't turn back to help you, as I had about forty guns aimed at me. I would like to say that the guard dogs are a bit slow in the head. Although, one did get hold of my leg, so bravo to that one mangy mutt for giving me a limp. I won't bother you with the long story of how I got back to my country, other than the fact that Francis was a really big help. Surprising, considering the Frenchman's normal behavior. Oh, and tell Toris I was shot the arm. Yes, it did hurt very badly but I did not cry or scream. That ought to satisfy the sick bastard."_ Toris smiled sweetly at the letter, pleased with Basch's wound.

 _"And if Toris is reading this to you as I suspect he will – my dearest little bitch, I hope you know that the world knows what you're doing. As I write this letter, Francis is currently on the phone with his boss making sure that the alliance is ended. Francis isn't one to keep quiet. I've told him everything and it won't be long before he starts talking. You're going to fall soon, and it will not be clean. According to French authorities, when they get to you they have orders to execute immediately without trial. Start counting your days, darling, because you're going to wake up dead soon. Who knows, I might join them for the death sentence._

 _"But, if by some miracle my brothers have escaped and would like to find us, talk to Mr. I-marry-people-to-solve-problems. Ask him about 1925. Oh, I guess Ivan and Yao can come too, if they want. I don't really care. The house is rather small though, so don't try and bring any friends._

 _"With absolutely no love,_

 _"Basch Zwingli."_

Toris took a final look over the letter and then tore it into pieces. He tore the pieces into smaller bits, sprinkling them on the floor like confetti.

"Now, who knows what happened in 1925? Roderich does! Give me an answer," he said, trying to calm down.

Roderich looked genuinely confused, thin eyebrows knitted together. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Really?" Toris snapped. "Because Basch here was sure you did."

"I don't know anything about 1925! Let's see," Roderich said, pushing up his glasses. "My marriage had fallen apart a few years prior, I was lonely, very depressed, a bit of an alcoholic, and angry with everyone. Is that what you want?"

"God, you're just hilarious!" Toris laughed sarcastically, leaning back against the wall. "Listen, you brat, this is my one clue to Natalia. I know you're lying directly to my face!" He grabbed his whip, drawing closer to Roderich.

"Face it, Toris; the girl never wants to see you again! Hell, if I was Natalia, I wouldn't want to see a man responsible for the deaths of thousands of people. Who in their right mind would? Well, save for Ivan," Gilbert shouted, trying to distract Toris. It worked, as he was now after the loud Prussian.

"She was just angry with me." Toris was on the edge of completely snapping now, his eyes full of resentment. He knew they were saying the truth, but he was trying to pretend that it wasn't so. Some little part of him still thought Natalia could love him, even after the years of murder and betrayal. That little part wanted to think he was still a good person.

"I'm sure my precious sister will want to destroy you after she finds out what you did to me. She loves me much more than she ever will love you," Ivan smirked.

Toris took a deep breath, realizing he was getting nowhere fast with this. "You know what, _fine_. If no one wants to tell me where she is, I can't stop you. If you don't want to confess, that's absolutely fine." Toris looked at Roderich, furious. "All of you will have the pleasure of shoveling every path in and out of this camp." He turned to leave, stomping as he went.

"We can't leave unless you unlock the cells, smartass!" Gilbert called after him.

The Lithuanian turned on his heels, stomping back inside. He unlocked all the cell doors, muttering curses and threats under his breath.

"So do we get these Red Cross packages or not?" Ivan asked, taking one out from under Toris' arm. He examined it for a moment before starting to open the box.

"Give that back!" Toris snarled, tearing it out of Ivan's hands. "No, you don't. These are for the human prisoners. You all seem to be getting along just fine! If you have the strength to lie and make light of your situations, you don't really need any assistance. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go sort things out with an infuriating man."

"So I guess your date with Feliks went pretty bad, huh?" Gilbert said suggestively, raising an eyebrow.

Toris took a sharp breath in, clenching his fist so tightly his knuckles turned white. "How the _hell_ do you know about that?"

"Eduard was yelling at us when you two came in," Ivan answered, earning himself a vicious glare from Toris.

"Did you two get it on?" Gilbert asked.

"I can't stand this anymore! If I could kill you all right now I _wouldn't hesitate!_ " Toris snarled, pushing the Prussian out of his way.

He turned to leave for a second time, pausing just barely outside of the door. Ludwig thought he was going to turn around and scream about something else or possibly kill someone.

"Oh, and by the way, I'll allow you to send one letter back to Basch. I promise that it'll get to him, via a man's coffin. Tell him that I don't like being referred to as a bitch and that the man carrying that letter was shot down a few kilometers from here. He was our newest radium test subject. Might I add that he didn't last very long? But he did have a very nice suit. Went by the name of Francis or something like that."

* * *

In a bunker hidden deep beneath Saint Petersburg a Russian general points to a large dot on a map and tries to explain his plan. The meeting has been going on for several hours now, everyone getting increasingly frustrated and tired. No one can decide on the best strategy, so they end up arguing and shouting at each other. There is only one clear objective of their mission, meaning the plans can go a variety of ways. They've heard what seems like thousands of ideas already with only a few promising ones.

Operation Circus is going to be a disaster. There is no way they'll be able to get through the plan without an immense amount of casualties. It's just impossible.

It was a request from their president in the darkest moments of the war. Poland-Lithuania invading from both the east and from Finland, constant air raids, and numerous deserters vanishing from their ranks in the night, the whole war was going downhill for the giant nation. Nothing made sense anymore – Russia had the power, the men, the will to fight, even the weather was working with them this year. So why was Poland-Lithuania gaining so much land?

Their president ordered a lieutenant general from the front lines, a rather cunning and ambitious young man by the name of Volkov. Volkov was flattered that the president would call for him – just a simple boy from a farm who really had no idea how he ever got to the rank of lieutenant general meeting with the leader of Russia. After the formal welcoming, the president explained the failures of their country. Although, Volkov didn't need to hear any more of them, as he saw them firsthand. He went on to say that he believed the shortcomings were because they were missing a crucial element to their country.

Ivan Braginsky.

Everyone in Russia knew that generic name by now; but not for the reasons Ivan would've liked. Before he was just a nameless face in the crowd, a bit tall, a nose slightly too big, nothing out of the ordinary, just your stereotypical Russian. Only now, instead of blending in, everyone knew him as a humiliation to his country. He gave up himself to save the enemy. Ukraine and Belarus were worthless to Russia, and yet Ivan insisted on letting himself be captured so they could be safe. In a war where countries that were "siblings" were out to annihilate each other, Ivan was expected to do the same. What a disgrace.

But the president believed that this humiliation was what was making their country fall. He thought that Ivan had some unseen importance, a sort of force that kept their country going. All they had to do to win the war would be retrieve Ivan, put him back in Moscow, and they would have instant success. Why their president thought victory came with instructions and ingredients like a cake mix baffled Volkov. Did the leader of their country really know nothing of warfare? More importantly, was Volkov really expected to follow these orders and put thousands of men in danger?

The plan was dubbed Operation Circus, since the president had compared Ivan to a circus bear – giant and terrifying on the outside, scared and easy to manipulate on the inside. Circus was quite the ironic name, since trying to pull this catastrophe of a plan together would be like trying to run a circus. Volkov was given the codename Ringleader, told to make sure everything ran smoothly.

Volkov was given the details of the mission, and then sent to Saint Petersburg to organize out a plan. The basic outline was all there – get to Szczecin, break into the camp, take Ivan, and then send him back to Moscow on a plane Volkov would somehow have to get into the enemy's country. To the president it seemed like a simple task. But to Volkov it was literally going to be hell. Poland-Lithuania wasn't going to let him waltz in there and take a valuable prisoner _and_ get away scot-free. How many people were going to die in the days to come for this absurd plan? Was Ivan even that important? There were thousands of people named Ivan in this vast country – why didn't they just find another one, claim him as the personification of Russia, and move on with their war?

"Sir, what do you think of this one?"

Volkov looked up from his outline, realizing he had no clue what the plan was. He'd been nearly asleep, barely registering any of the man's words. What was he supposed to answer? Glancing at the map, Volkov tried to get a general idea of what was to happen. The red line came in through the Baltic Sea, the little plane coming from Moscow, and the blue line was pushed back by more of the red line. At a glance, it looked like the plan could actually work. But what was Volkov going to do if the plan was horrible and he agreed to it? Then when everyone was dead they could blame the man in charge because he'd been asleep. Damn it, he should've been paying attention! That was one of his only shortcomings; he had trouble focusing on something for more than a few minutes. Unless he was very enthusiastic about something, he couldn't sit still and listen for several hours.

"Uh…It looks like it could succeed?" Volkov answered warily, pressing down on the back of his neck. It was a habit of his when he got nervous – so quite often one could find his fingers there. He liked to imagine that it calmed him down, but in reality it only helped the anxiety grow. And even worse, others could easily tell when he was anxious.

"It seems like the best plan yet," another officer added, saving Volkov from trying to come up with any more praise. Volkov silently thanked the man, promising to pay better attention.

But by the next plan, he was back to being half asleep. He could barely keep his eyes open to watch the tiny colonel with the circle rimmed glasses start to explain his idea. Volkov was more interested in the man's glasses, wondering why he'd chosen such silly frames. They didn't seem right on the small colonel, making him look like one of those old paintings. Perhaps he was trying to look like one.

Then the colonel caught Volkov's evasive attention.

"That's it!" Volkov said a bit too excitedly, standing up so quickly his chair fell. The man with the circle glasses yelped, looking at the lieutenant general in fear. Everyone else seemed quite startled by his loud outburst, staring at Volkov.

The Russian felt his face burn, his hand returning to the back of his neck. "That's the plan that'll get us to Ivan with the least causalities. This is definitely the best plan out of the lot to reduce fatalities, although it'll move a bit slower than some of the others."

"Oh, well," the short colonel squeaked. "I'm glad you think so."

"How long do you think it'll take us to execute the plan?" Volkov said.

The colonel thought for a moment. "Around three weeks."

"Good, good! What's your name?" Volkov asked, picking up his chair.

"Colonel Sevastian Viktorovich Sokoloff, sir."

"Well then, Sevastian Viktorovich, you're going to be at my side until we're through with this operation. I don't want you working on anything else besides this plan."

Operation Circus was going to be a success.

* * *

 **A/N: Hello! After a week spent drowning in homework, failing spelling bees, and stuffing envelopes (mind numbing dull work, don't ever do it.) I am here again. I have risen from the depths of hell known as school! But seriously, you all need to stay in school. It's good for you.**

 **I am so sorry for writing Roderich like a crazy ex-girlfriend, hence the title of this chapter. He's just that... well... _dramatic_. I know it's a little out of character, but, hell, he's a grown Austria he can do what he wants!**

 **Translation Time!**

Volkov **\- his name means wolf, which I thought was rather suiting.**

 _moy malen'kiy drug **-**_ **my little friend.**

 **Thank you to** Qeani **,** animenerd1114 **, the guest reviewer** Reader-chan **,** **and my faithful reviewers** Seele Esser Deutsch **and** Comix and Co **! Excuse me for being repetitive, but you all make my morning/night/whatever time of day I see you're reading my story. I love all of you!**

 **Also, I saw two bald eagles today. Those things are cool as shit, all American and stuff. Freedom!**

 **See you next chapter!**

 **(Please tell me if my Russian name writing is wrong, I'm a very worried writer here.)**


	22. Vive la France

"Um…I'm so sorry to disturb you, Basch," Yekaterina said in a quiet voice, gently knocking on the bedroom door. "But we really have to go if we're going to arrive in Paris on time."

Basch buried his face in his pillow, praying she'd just leave. All the knocking – although it was soft – was making his headache worse. He couldn't sleep at all last night, so he'd been staring up at the ceiling all night and sobbing, which made him completely exhausted. This was not a time to bother him, and yet that Ukrainian insisted on trying to pull him out of his isolation. She didn't have a clue as to what was going on with Basch. Not a _clue_.

"Okay, I get it. I just thought you'd want to come with us, but I see that I'm wrong. You should really be there, though. It's the right thing to do," Yekaterina admitted her defeat, but threw that final bit in as a last-ditch effort to lure Basch out to the real world. He wasn't going to give in so easily, even though he knew she was right.

"I guess this is goodbye, then? Natalia and I have Lilli, and we'll be back by eleven or so. If we're not back by tomorrow, we're staying in Paris for a bit. The truce may break before midnight, so we'll be stuck there until they can get us back here safely. Call me if we're not back or if you need anything, okay? …I'm so sorry. I know you're upset and all, but don't blame yourself. Trust me, it wasn't your fault," she sighed.

"Yes it was," Basch whispered to himself, the tears coming back to his eyes. He grabbed a fistful of his blanket, clenching it so tightly his knuckles turned white. If Yekaterina caught him crying, she'd never leave. There would be a thousand more questions and she'd try to comfort him – he'd just have to hold out until she left.

"This is your last chance to come with us. I guess if you change your mind you can catch the next train, but that'll be cutting it close. Goodbye. Please, don't try anything rash." Yekaterina muttered something to herself, and then her heels were clicking down the hallway.

Basch was already crying when the front door slammed shut.

How was Basch not supposed to feel responsible for Francis' death? He should've sent the letter on a soldier, should've kept it to himself and just forgotten about it, he shouldn't have let _Francis_ take it. Of all people, Francis shouldn't have been the one to go. But that fool wanted to take it himself. Basch should've stood up and told him no, but he didn't. The Swiss handed over that letter to him without hesitating.

"I promise it'll get to them," Francis had said, tucking the envelope safely away in the pocket of his coat. "Take care of yourself while I'm gone. And please, do something about that atrocious number. _Je t'aime,_ Basch."

" _Je t'aime,_ Francis."

Those last words were _worthless_. Basch didn't mean them at the time – it was a joke to him. Francis saw it as a joke too, laughing with the Swiss. Why didn't Basch say something really meaningful? What about a simple "goodbye" or a "stay safe?" No, he just had to make some dumb joke, not saying anything heartfelt or trying to stop him. The very last thing Francis heard from him wasn't even truthful at the time. Now Basch really did realize how much he loved his blond cousin.

Of course he realized it too late.

 _That's all I ever was,_ Basch told himself. _Too dense to understand anything until it was far too late. And look what happened now! Francis still thinks I'm some arrogant asshole who doesn't care for anyone but my sister. He died knowing that I'm a stuck up, short, cheap, son of a bitch who can't even tell someone how much they really mean to them._

 _Why wasn't I carrying that letter? I should've gone back, and then if I got caught, I'd be the dead one. I'm already "dead." Francis, you didn't have to… Damn it, Basch, you should be in the casket today! People should be mourning you! Or would people even come to your funeral? Probably not. Francis was so much better than me. He cared for all of us, he wasn't rude to anyone, he wasn't so aggressive, he had a good heart, and by God, people loved him a hell of a lot more than they love me!_

 _And look at me now! I can't even bring myself to go to the funeral._

Basch propped himself up, more angry with himself than he was grief-stricken. He should be able to go to a funeral, even if he was this upset. Who cared if anyone saw him cry? Pride was something to be put aside at a time like this. Francis would've done the same thing if Basch had really been dead. So Basch should be expected to do the same. If he really wanted to be as good of a person as his cousin, he needed to go.

What did Yekaterina say? If he caught the next train, he might be able to make it. But if he was going to get to Paris and catch the train to the tiny little village, he'd have to move, now. Putting all thoughts of his pride to the side, Basch got out of bed, throwing open his closet. After a bit of searching through the clutter of a few uniforms and his favourite guns, he found exactly what he'd been looking for. The suit Francis deemed "perfect" was still hanging up, untouched since the day he came home several months ago. He grabbed it, along with a black tie.

Once dressed, he quietly slipped out of his room. He hadn't seen the rest of the house for two days, and was quite surprised to find everything in order. Yekaterina had done quite a good job of keeping the house clean, despite being so worried about Basch. The Swiss went into the bathroom, hoping to find a makeup bag belonging to one of the three girls currently living in his home. But Yekaterina cleaned that up as well – the one thing Basch wished she would've left. Now he only had one choice left.

Basch wasn't going to invade the guest bedroom where the two women were sleeping like an immature teenager. He was far too prideful to do something like that. His only option was to go to the other bedroom. Slowly, he walked down the hallway to the now forbidden room. No one had been inside since the day the Frenchman left. They were all respectful of his privacy, leaving it untouched. Of course, they were all expecting Francis to come back.

With a trembling hand and new tears forming in his eyes, Basch opened the door. He shielded his eyes, not wanting to see anything but what he needed. He feared that he would start crying again, and then wouldn't ever make it to the service. Stumbling through the room semi-blindly, he tried his best not to imagine Francis' final day here. What was going through his mind as he prepared for an inevitable death? Was he even worried about it? At the time it didn't seem like it, but Francis could prove quite good at hiding his true emotions.

Forcing back tears, Basch continued on his search. Once he found the vanity, he scanned through the odd things on the top for the little coloured pencil. Where was the stupid thing? He pushed aside official papers and a few books, but the pencil was nowhere to be seen. Basch started to open one of the drawers, but something else caught his eye. An envelope addressed to Basch was tucked into where the mirror and the frame met, begging to be opened.

He pulled it from its spot, tearing the envelope open. The eyeliner fell out into his hand, along with a letter. Basch put the eyeliner to the side, unfolding the letter.

 _"My dearest Basch,"_ the letter started out, Francis' familiar looping handwriting making Basch's heart ache. The paper still smelled faintly of Francis' cologne, which struck again at his now fragile emotions. This must've been the last thing he wrote, and to Basch – of all the possible people to write a death letter to, why him?

 _"I write these words at a time when I realize death is right at my heels. I doubt I'll be able to make it back to Bern alive. I'm so sorry. Please, don't blame yourself if I come back to you dead. This is all my fault. Don't you dare think you put me up to this. If you put all the weight on yourself, I will personally come back from the dead and slap you. I wanted to take your letter to them myself, you hear me? You did not force me into this. Besides, I have a few words for Toris."_

Basch didn't even realize how bad his hands were shaking until he could hardly read the words. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he put the letter down on the vanity. Did he really want to continue reading? It was only going to bring him back to hysterics again. He'd read it when he got back home, and then he could get all depressed and weepy. Turning back, Basch grabbed the eyeliner and started to leave.

Curiosity got the best of him though. He stopped right outside the door, going right back to the letter.

 _"You must be going to my funeral or another public affair, as you came looking for the eyeliner. Didn't your father ever teach you a thing about privacy? I'm joking, dear. I wanted you to find this. Why else would I hide it from you? Admit it, you like the little added effect. I was right and you were wrong! Perhaps next time we see each other I'll have a number of my own and you can do the eyeliner for me! Oh, dear, that's a horrible thought. Please, excuse my terrible taste of humour._

 _"Anyway, I would like you to do three things for me. Firstly, I need you to tell Arthur I hate him. That's another joke. Tell him I really enjoy time we've spent together, even though I act like I don't. Oh, and would you tell him I'm sorry for calling him all those names? And if you could, mock his eyebrows once more for my sake. You're good at insults, make one up._

 _"Next, please let my country know I died for a good reason. Tell them to make Poland-Lithuania fall, and make sure Toris and Feliks get punished severely. If they choose the death sentence, please do not make it a painful demise, as I don't want anyone to stoop to their level. Just make it quick and easy. Give them painkillers, don't force them to do something in their final moments, comfort them if they cry out in pain. I can't stand to think of that sweet little Lithuania in pain. Poland – well, he's a completely different story. You are under my direct orders to take care of France while I'm…Oh, dear; I realized how horrible it sounds to talk so lightly of my own death. Just don't screw it up, okay?_

 _"And lastly – take care of yourself. I know you're going to put all the guilt on you. But I saved you that night for a reason. Don't you dare go back to Szczecin and throw your own life away like it means nothing. Because it does mean something to me, something very important to everyone. You are much too loved to die. You still have people who love you, like Lilli and your brothers. I'm…Well, I'm all alone in this world now. Mathieu won't stand to talk to me, my dear Monaco doesn't even want to be near me anymore…I sound sort of like an old man rambling on about how all his friends are gone, don't I? I guess in a way I am._

 _"Please don't mourn over me. I know those words will be disregarded, but try not to get all depressed and weepy. Think of it this way – I'm better off where I presumably am now than I am in the real world. Do you remember my beloved Jeanne? No, I don't think you ever met her… Well, you know the story of Jeanne D'Arc?_

 _"I finally get to hold her again. I can't tell you how long I've waited for this moment._

 _"Much love and apologies,_

 _"Francis Bonnefoy._

 _"P.S – If my funeral could be held at Mont Saint-Michel, that would be greatly appreciated. But, you'll probably get this note too late for it to be held there. Can they even have funerals at Mont Saint-Michel? Hell, I'm France; they should be able to do that much for me."_

* * *

"Gilbert, have you actually done any work yet?" Yao asked, glaring at the albino.

Gilbert looked up at him with a shameful grin. He'd been playing in the snow for a few hours now, building little snow armies and crushing them. As of the moment he was working on a little village comprised mostly of gravel and a few broken sticks. Already the town had suffered a pandemic, a Viking attack, and a famine. Everyone put up with his morbid playtime as they worked, thinking it was better than having to listen to his complaints. They seemed to get a lot more done without the Prussian too.

"You know," Ivan said, walking over to Gilbert. "That's a cute little thing you've made there. Would be a shame if something were to happen, da?"

"Don't you dare hurt my people. See, I'm working on Johann's house right now – he has two little babies and a pretty wife." Gilbert pointed to one of the little squares that barely resembled a house. "And he works over here at the bakery. Wouldn't you feel terrible if you killed them?" Gilbert asked, putting his hands protectively over the tiny houses.

"Oh, no, I wouldn't hurt anyone. Especially not Johann and his pretty wife, da?"

"Your voice is dripping with sarcasm."

Ivan hung his head, trying not to completely lash out at the stubborn Prussian. "I think I speak for all of us when I say it isn't fair for the rest of us to do all the work while you sit here and kill imaginary beings."

"Well, life isn't fair." Gilbert stuck his tongue out, glaring at the Russian.

Without any warning, Ivan grabbed the back of Gilbert's head and slammed the Prussian's face into the snow. He held him down in the snow for a long time, when he finally let Gilbert go he was gasping for air. Ivan laughed at his desperation, going back to work. Gilbert started breathing normally again, until he saw the wreck of his little settlement. Then he started growling like an animal, glaring at the Russian with all the intensity of a rabid beast.

"You killed Johann."

"So sorry," Ivan sighed. "Maybe next time you'll actually work some."

"You killed Johann," Gilbert repeated, standing up.

"Stop, Gil." Ludwig grabbed his brother's shoulder, trying to keep him from starting a fight.

"But he killed my people!"

"They were rocks," Roderich said in a rather monotone voice. He was probably in another one of his moods today, just like he'd been off and on for the past few weeks. "Inanimate little things that couldn't even speak or breathe. Get over it."

"Well, God, you don't have to ruin everything, do you?" Gilbert grabbed a fistful of snow, breaking free from Ludwig's hold. He shoved it down Roderich's shirt, the Austrian slapping Gilbert in return.

Soon the two were locked in another fight, trying to smother each other in the snow. Everyone else just continued on working – the violent way of sorting things out was all too normal now. It seemed like every day was just another stage for an argument that eventually turned aggressive. No one was going to waste their energy on trying to stop them. Even Toris let them try and tear the other apart, although he might have been praying for that to happen. Maybe Ludwig would get involved if the two were starting to actually kill each other, but other than that everybody went along with their work.

"Okay, fine, I'm sorry!" Roderich shouted, pushing Gilbert off of him.

"Sorry for what?!"

"For telling to get over the fact that your stupid little village is gone."

"Wrong answer!" Gilbert pinned Roderich back down, pressing more snow into the Austrian's face.

"What's the right one?" Yao muttered to himself, glancing over at Ivan.

Ivan shook his head, grabbing a handful of the white powder. Quietly, he walked over to Gilbert and put it down the back of his shirt. The Prussian yelped, letting Roderich go.

"What the hell was that for?!" Gilbert grabbed Ivan's left leg so he couldn't get away. Ivan cried out in pain, pulling Gilbert's hands away. Completely unaware of what he'd just done, Gilbert found himself in a chokehold.

"Might I ask the same question?" Ivan snarled, nearly at the point of tears. "What ever, _ever,_ made you think that was acceptable?"

"I don't…know…what I did!" Gilbert clawed at Ivan's arm, which only made the Russian's hold tighten.

"I want you to think long and hard about what you just did."

Gilbert looked up at him, completely confused. "You crushed my rock village…I got in a fight with…Roderich, you shoved snow down my shirt, and…I grabbed your leg."

"Which one?" Ivan asked, giving him the innocent grin.

"The left?" Gilbert was still oblivious to Ivan's fury.

"What's so special about his left leg, dumbass?" Yao asked over his shoulder, dumping a shovelful of snow onto the pile.

The Prussian was hit by the sudden realization, his red eyes wide. "Oh, my God, I totally forgot."

"Oh, da, people can just _forget_ about radiation poisoning."

"No, no, no!" Ivan threw Gilbert down into the snow, the Prussian still trying to apologize. "That really wasn't what I was trying to do! I thought that you were all healed up."

"Unfortunately, this isn't something temporary," Ivan muttered, putting a hand on his leg. "Of course, _you_ wouldn't know that."

"You don't have to be so rude."

"You don't have to be so ignorant."

Gilbert crossed his arms, sticking his nose up in the air. "Fine. I'm sorry that I unintentionally hurt you and you can't accept apologies."

"Okay, are we all good now? Can we move on from this?" Roderich asked.

"Whatever." Gilbert got up from his spot, grabbing his shovel. "You people don't know how to have any fun."

Everyone was eerily quiet for a long while after that, the only sound being the crunch of snow. Ludwig couldn't stand working in silence – something just felt very wrong without anyone talking. He wondered if he should tell the others what Elizabeta told him last night, just to get someone to say something. Would they all just write it off as some delusion? Elizabeta didn't seem to be lying to him. But who would believe him if Ludwig told the others he could talk to the Hungarian? Perhaps all these dreams were just made up things. Now that he was really thinking about it, the whole idea seemed rather absurd. Talking to the dead, seeing events from the past; they could all just be a huge story conjured up by his mind to try and take him far away from the awfulness of the real world.

Still, what a beautiful thought it was that they were going to be rescued in three weeks.

"I hope Basch is okay," Gilbert said rather randomly, breaking the silence.

"Why wouldn't he be? He's in a much better place right now," Roderich answered, still sounding completely unemotional.

"But seriously, think about it." Gilbert leaned on his shovel, watching the others work. "In the letter he sounded pretty fond of Francis. I just think that he'd be at the very least a little upset."

"Do you think he'll get our letters?" Ludwig asked, thinking about his paper. Gilbert had given them all a page from his diary – rather generous of the Prussian. Figuring no one else was going to read it, Ludwig told Basch almost everything about Holy Rome, about being able to talk to Elizabeta, about how he was going to be rescued in three weeks. He just needed someone to tell that to, as it was rather hard keeping it all secret.

"I doubt Toris will actually get it to him," Ivan said. "If he actually does decide to send it, he'll probably censor everything. Think about what could happen if it accidentally got to the wrong person. Suddenly somebody would know everything about this hellhole," the Russian made a sweeping gesture with his hand like he was showing off the beauty of the place. "And then they'd be in a lot more trouble than before."

"But think about what could happen if he didn't censor anything and it _did_ fall into the wrong hands," Gilbert added, his eyes lighting up like they did when he got a "great" idea. "We could be rescued."

"I doubt it," Roderich sighed, pushing up his glasses.

"Chipper up, Roddy! We could seriously have a chance to get out of here!" Gilbert ruffled the Austrian's hair, grinning as he did so.

Roderich pushed Gilbert away from him, looking out into the forest. "Do you ever get this feeling, like you know something's going to go wrong?"

"You mean what you feel when he's around?" Yao motioned to Gilbert with his thumb.

"Exactly. I have this feeling." Roderich pinched the bridge of his nose, looking like he was in a great deal of pain. "And this is not just me being myself," he added. "We aren't going to make it out of this alive."

* * *

The day of the temporary truce was cold and grey, quite a suiting day for such an event. Basch found the streets eerily empty as he walked towards the island, his only company being a French flag every two steps and a mean looking alley cat. Still, it was better that he was alone – no stares, no witnesses to his quiet rambling. He was forming a eulogy in his head, although he didn't know if he'd actually be able to get up there and say it. And if he did, could he even manage through it without crying again? But they had asked him to deliver one, so he'd have to try his best.

Unexpectedly, Basch found himself on the long bridge up to Mont Saint-Michel. He must've been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed. Now that he was actually in front of the picturesque fortress of sorts, the bridge looked much longer than he'd imagined. How was he ever going to make it there on time if he had to walk halfway across France to get to the service? With an over exaggerated sigh, Basch checked that Francis' final letter was still tucked away in his coat pocket and started on the hike.

The seemingly endless bridge gave him plenty of time to think over his words and cry a little. Basch was sick of sobbing, but he'd never experienced a death this close to him. His heart seemed to clench at every tiny thought of the Frenchman, bringing tears back to his eyes. Elizabeta hadn't done this to him, but she seemed like a completely different circumstance – she wasn't ever that dear to Basch. It wasn't that he didn't care about her, but the two hadn't been like Francis and Basch were.

"Oh, good, Basch, you're here," Yekaterina sighed when Basch came into the church. She was waiting for him out in the vestibule, with Natalia and Lilli nowhere to be seen. With a hint of irritation she walked over to him, her high heels making important sounding clacks on the stone floor. Immediately Basch felt self conscious – by God, she was already tall, and the heels were _not_ helping Basch seem any larger.

She started fussing with him like one would with a small child, pulling a comb from her purse and running it through his blond hair. Basch stepped away from her, trying to keep any dignity he had left intact.

"Stop that," he growled in a low voice, pointing at the comb like it was an attacker.

"You look terrible."

"I haven't slept for two days. What did you expect me to look like?" Basch said.

"I see you're as snarky as ever," she said, putting the comb back in her purse. With a roll of her eyes, she ran her fingers through his hair once more and led him into the church.

Basch reluctantly went along with her, looking about the church. He hadn't been to a proper one in such a long time – the last was somewhere in Germany during his three years as a homeless man. He'd always admired the beauty of such places; the architecture, the paintings, the glistening stained glass windows depicting Biblical scenes. And Mont Saint-Michel's church was no different. The Swiss felt like a boy all over again, hardly paying attention at mass and focusing more on the magnificence of the church. After all, he was the bad child of the group, the one who had to constantly be shushed.

Soon he'd taken in all of the church and started looking at the people. All of France seemed to be here, with only a few familiar faces. Matthew, Alfred, Arthur, Feliciano, Lovino, Antonio –

 _Wait, how the hell did they get here? That is them, right? Oh, my God, did they escape too?_

Basch wanted to go and talk to the two ex-prisoners, but Yekaterina pulled him into a pew with Lilli, Natalia, and two strangers – one with a nose a bit too big and countless military medals pinned to his coat and another with odd little circular glasses. The one with all the medals glanced at Basch almost suspiciously, whispering something to the other. Still, Basch was more interested in how Antonio and Lovino managed to get here than the strangers that were probably talking about him. Antonio and Lovino didn't run away with him, and Toris must've tightened security after Basch's escape.

But soon his mind was taken from the two. He was too busy looking at the paintings and decorations around the church and the people before to notice the casket with a French flag draped over it and a bouquet of irises on top.

Part of him completely refused to believe that it was Francis' body in there. Nations couldn't die – they just couldn't. That was fact, and no one dared to argue with it. That side of him was still stuck as a stubborn nation, not believing in changes he'd seen with his own eyes. But that other part knew that Francis had met the same fate as Elizabeta. He wanted to go with the side of denial so badly. This was all just a lie Toris had implemented to weaken France after the alliance was called off. Francis was just a prisoner with the rest of them, just a man with a number. He'd probably already made his own flag, and had a few of his own Toris Marks and…

And yet, he knew his cousin could only be dead.

Basch couldn't bring himself to listen to most of the priest's words. That would only lead to tears again, and then Basch would get embarrassed, and everything would go downhill from there. So instead, he focused on his eulogy. He recited the words over and over until he couldn't stand them anymore, and then went back to looking at Antonio and Lovino in complete confusion. And then he stared at the two strangers – the one with the glasses was taking notes now while the big nosed one was whispering something.

Basch was already upset, and those two pushed it over the edge. How could they be so disrespectful? This was a funeral for a nation – and yet they were talking quietly about something, the bespectacled man making little motions with his pen to Basch and then to Lilli. Who did they think they were? If only Basch could go over there and talk some sense into them.

And that's exactly what he was about to do when Yekaterina gave him a little nudge. Only then was his attention drawn back to the funeral and he realized he was supposed to go give his eulogy. Remembering the faces of those two men very well, he stepped up to the front of the church.

"I've never realized how important your final words are," Basch started, glancing at the two men. They seemed to be watching Basch very intently now; the one with all the medals was nearly smiling. Putting all of his irritation far away from the moment, Basch continued on. "Of course, at the time you don't think they'll be the last thing you say to them. You always expect them to wake up the next morning or come back. Never, not once in my life did I think that my last words to my cousin would be _'Je t'aime.'_ To tell you the truth, I never thought it would ever come to this.

"But I was wrong. Francis was such a good man – bad things aren't supposed to happen to good people. He had this amazing capacity to care for everyone, even the enemy. I was the enemy for a long time, and he still took me in and saved my life. And what did he get repaid with for all of his generosity? What was given to him in return for his compassion and honesty? I think we all know the answer." Basch's vision was starting to blur, but he was not going to cry. He was stronger than this. Getting a little frustrated with his emotions, the Swiss swiped at his eyes.

"Francis didn't even want his murders to suffer. In his final letter to me," Basch took out the letter, making another wipe at his eyes with his hand. "He wrote, ' _Tell my country to make Poland-Lithuania fall, and make sure Toris and Feliks get punished severely. If they choose the death sentence, please do not make it a painful demise, as I don't want anyone to stoop to their level. Just make it quick and easy. Give them painkillers, don't force them to do something in their final moments, comfort them if they cry out in pain. I can't stand to think of that sweet little Lithuania in pain.'_ How could someone who knew he was walking right into a death trap be so kind to the enemy? He knew his own death would be torturous and painful, and yet he wanted the men responsible to have it gentle and easy.

"That is what a true nation should do. If only we could forgive each other this easily, never wish pain on others, and share that love for everyone, none of this would've ever happened. We would not be here today, no one would ever have to be branded like cattle again – children could grow up in a world that wasn't full of bloodshed and hatred.

"And the only way to do that is to be like my cousin." Basch almost completely lost it at this point, his voice becoming choked by sobs. "God only hopes we could understand each other as well as he did."

"I was asked by Francis to carry out his last wishes. Arthur," Basch looked at the Brit, who seemed to be as distraught from Francis' death as Basch was. "He asked me to insult you one more time for him. So, I would like to say that your eyebrows remind me of the ugliest caterpillars I've ever seen."

Arthur's hands instantly went to his face, turning bright red as Alfred and Matthew were trying not to start hysterically laughing.

Basch glanced down at the coffin, not even bothering to hide his tears. But this time, he was smiling.

"Goodbye, Francis."

* * *

"He was a good man, no?"

Basch tensed up at the sound of the heavily accented voice, looking up from the grave. Quickly he turned around to find the two men who had been in the pew with him, Military Medals and Glasses, as Basch had nicknamed them. They were the only ones left in the cemetery – Lilli and Ivan's sisters were waiting for Basch at the train station.

"It's so horrible that he had to go that way," the man with the circle glasses added, gazing down at the headstone. "I'm so sorry for your loss. I understand how –"

"Who the hell even are you two?! I've never seen you before in my life, you sure as hell aren't French, and for the love of God, don't pull that _'understanding'_ shit with me." Basch finally lost his temper, grabbing the shirt of the one with the eyeglasses. His blue eyes grew wide, flicking to something over Basch's shoulder.

A mechanical click made Basch drop the man. Glasses backed away, pulling his pistol from his coat pocket. His hands were trembling so badly he could hardly aim straight.

"Don't touch Acrobat like that. He meant no harm," Military Medals snarled, his pistol aimed perfectly at Basch's head. He obviously lived up to all those awards – his hand wasn't even shaking a little bit. With a quick pull of the trigger, Basch could find himself with a neat hole in his head.

Basch tried not to show that he was panicking, but his eyes gave it away. He'd very rarely been at the other end of a gun barrel like this – it was quite a traumatizing experience. Were these two hit men? Was he going to be dragged back to Szczecin? Or even worse, were they going to ship him off to a laboratory? Even worse, they were all alone in the cemetery. He could be easily dragged away without anyone realizing that they were missing a Switzerland. How long was it going to be before someone noticed he was missing?

"You are correct – we are not friends of the man, we are not French." Military Medals lowered his gun, looking over Basch apprehensively. "The same could be said of you. Basch Zwingli was dead three years ago. And yet here you are. Same number, same scars, same aggressive manner – you're either a very good mimic or the real Basch."

"I _am_ the real thing, you bastards. That was a lie."

"According to our records, it was not a lie. But I don't think any human would go to these desperate levels," Glasses said, backing a bit further away from the Swiss. Basch shot him a glare that made the man flinch.

"What do you two want with me?" Basch took a step towards the larger of the two, attempting to be intimidating. The man loomed over him, looking down on Basch with a sense of excitement. He was smiling again, setting something off in Basch. Military Medals reminded him of someone – but who was it?

"Do you want to help us rescue your brothers?"

Basch stumbled backwards, wondering if he'd heard right. No, there was no way someone would try something like that. These were just con men trying to get money or get him sent back to camp, or perhaps hold him for ransom. How dare they think he was so foolish! It wasn't like Basch had been turned into a complete idiot by Bolesność. He could still think logically – although these two bastards didn't seem to think so.

"Great joke." Now it was Basch's turn to pull a weapon, his dear little switchblade. Military Medals' eyes lit up at the sight of the blade, looking more interested than scared. "What do you really want? I'm not worth any money, Toris doesn't want me back, and I don't have any money."

Military Medals started laughing a bit, running a hand through his dark curls. "I am dead serious right now. We don't want anything from you but your help." He put a hand on Basch's shoulder, ignoring the blade that could soon be in his throat. "We are from Russia." That's who he reminded Basch of – Ivan. Same nose, same childlike grin, same sort of innocence about him. "In exactly three weeks, around Christmas time, we will be at Bolesność. Our objective is to retrieve Ivan. But, I think we might need your… ah, assistance." He gave Basch a mischievous smirk. "You assist us in getting to Szczecin safely; we'll help your brothers escape. You're one of the only men we could find that would be willing to help and knows the battlefield well. But if you don't accept…Well, I've said a bit too much to let you walk away. I know of a nice little laboratory in Estonia that would love a subject like you."

 _Oh, my God, I've walked right into their trap._ Basch looked down at the switchblade, attempting to keep his irritation under control. _I can't even get out of this one. Unless, of course, I try to kill both of them. But I think Military Medals could get me down before I could even try something. Holy shit, I'm going to die. I'm going to go right back to Szczecin and get myself killed. There's no way they'll ever be able to get into the prison._

 _But I don't have a choice._

"Alright, I'm in," he said, making his voice rather standoffish. "But I swear to God, if you try anything, this'll be in both of your necks." Basch held up the blade, pointing it at Military Medals and then at Glasses.

"Good, very good! I love an ally with a bit of spice. When I was working on another operation, I had to work with the dullest man in the world. He…Well, that's a story for another time." Military Medals put a hand to the back of his neck, his face growing pink. "Welcome to Operation Circus, Zwingli." Military Medals stuck out his hand, and Basch grudgingly shook it. "I am Ringleader, and this is Acrobat." He motioned to Glasses, who gave a polite wave, despite being almost strangled by Basch a moment ago. "Your codename is Magician. We leave for Saint Petersburg at exactly 0300 hours tomorrow, Magician. Rendezvous at Notre Dame. Details will follow. Don't try to get away, because we have an agent near your house who has orders to snipe almost immediately if you do not go straight to Notre Dame."

With a stiff salute, Ringleader started to walk away. He stopped after just a few steps like he'd forgotten something, pulling a letter from his pocket.

"This is yours by the way. Francis was holding it." He handed an envelope over to Basch, giving him a sympathetic smile. "I don't know how close you two were, but I understand loss. My father passed on a few months ago, and Acrobat here lost two of his brothers to Poland-Lithuania. We are all in this together. They're going to fall, and we're going to start it. Listen, I'm really sorry we had to meet this way."

"Me too," Basch replied, putting the letter in his coat pocket along with the Frenchman's final note. Although, he wouldn't want to meet these two any day, no matter how awful.

"Goodbye, Magician," Acrobat said, giving Basch a half salute.

After they were gone, Basch knelt down beside the grave, putting a hand to the smooth stone. _Vive la France!_ the inscription read. He traced over the name elegantly carved into it, and then over the number down at the bottom. Number TT-460971, Francis Bonnefoy.

"Dear God, Francis, what have I gotten myself into? Soon I could be right here next to you."

* * *

 **A/N: Hello!**

 **I've cried several times while writing this. Perhaps it's because I had a terrible week and was just extremely upset - I got called several rude things by someone I thought was my friend. But enough of my personal woes. Life is life, right?**

 **Big thank you to a mysterious guest reviewer,** SoulEleri **(you must really love me, dear!) and my two faithful cinnamon rolls who never fail me -** Seele Esser Deutsch **and** Comix and Co **! Good God, you guys can turn a absolutely disgusting day into a fabulous one!**

 **So yeah, I really don't have much more to say. Hope you're all doing well! Oh, and this story is getting very close to the end. It's almost a year old, too.**

 **See you all next chapter!**


	23. Deal With the Devil

"Hey, Antonio, it's Basch. Sorry I'm calling so late, but there isn't any other time that's going to work."

"Oh, my God, it's really you," Antonio gasped, his voice going much higher than normal. This seemed to be a recurring theme with anyone he talked to – total doubt that Basch was actually speaking.

"Well, _ja_ , it is really me."

Antonio didn't say anything for a long time, leaving Basch in dead silence. He was starting to think he'd lost connection when the Spaniard started talking again. "How are you even here?" Antonio asked in complete disbelief. "Are you okay? You were walking with a limp – what happened? Please tell me you weren't followed from Poland. Toris didn't kill everybody else, right? This isn't a joke, is it?"

"Slow down," Basch sighed, trying to process all of his words. It was _way_ too early in the morning for this. "I'm doing as well as one can in this situation. And yes, I am okay. I have a slight limp because one of the guard dogs tore up my leg. I don't think I was followed. And as far as I know, everyone else is still alive. Listen, I'm really sorry that I'm calling so early."

"Oh, good. I was so worried about you guys. We just got home, so this isn't the most inconvenient time in the world. I was meaning to talk to you today, but…" Antonio's voice faded away, trying to avoid finishing his sentence.

"It's fine. I was unapproachable anyway. So anyway," Basch said, folding up another shirt and stuffing it in his briefcase. "I wanted to ask you about your escape."

"I was going to ask you the same thing. Last I knew, you were dead. So you didn't really die, right?"

"Of course not. How the hell else could I be talking to you?"

"I don't know," Antonio sounded a bit crestfallen, almost ashamed of his words. "What if you're a ghost or a really good impersonator?"

Basch resisted an exasperated groan – he thought Antonio would have a little more faith in him. "Okay, ghosts can't pick up phones, and an impersonator wouldn't risk his life for a stupid phone call."

"I saw this movie one time, and the ghost _could_ call people. It was a really good movie too; there was this really pretty girl –"

"The escape, Antonio. I have to leave soon, just tell me how you did it." Basch put his favourite little handgun in his coat pocket, slamming the briefcase closed.

"Right, sorry," Antonio apologized, sounding hurt that he didn't get to tell Basch the whole plot of the movie. But the Swiss did not have any time to spare. There was an agent hiding somewhere nearby, prepared to kill if Basch didn't leave on time. And if Antonio got him killed for describing an actress, Basch would never forgive the Spaniard.

"Eduard helped us get out. He plans mass escapes every week. We got out with sixteen other guys and I think almost if not all of us made it home. But anyway, Raivis and Eduard select a group of around twenty men or so, Eduard takes them out to the woods like he's going to kill them, fires off a few rounds, and Raivis records them all as dead. Except for me and Lovi – technically, we're still alive and we're in a camp in Estonia now. He gives you a map of safe houses that lead into the parts of Germany that haven't been taken over yet," Antonio explained rather hurriedly. "Did you guys get out too? Eduard said that you were supposed to be in the next round."

Basch fell back on his bed, so frustrated he couldn't even speak. They were really all supposed to escape the next week? _And he'd blown it for everyone?_ "Uh…no, we didn't. We sort of planned our own escape, and I was the only one to get out."

 _I really_ did _kill Francis. If we had just waited a few more days, everyone could've gotten out safely. Oh, my God, what have I done?_

"Listen, Antonio, it's been a pleasure talking," Basch said, his voice wavering. He took a deep breath to stop the trembling, but his voice was still laced with fury. "But I really have to get going."

"Okay. Hey, I'm really sorry about Francis."

"Thank you _._ I know he was close to you too, so I'm sorry as well _._ Goodbye."

" _Adios_ , Basch. Take care of yourself, okay? Don't do anything stupid," Antonio yawned loudly.

Basch hung up without saying anything in response. He threw the phone down, snatched up his briefcase, and left his bedroom. Using all of his willpower, Basch managed not to slam the door. All of his pent up anger was threatening to come out. Of course he had to get mad at the most inconvenient time. How was someone supposed to slip quietly outside if he was furious? This task required complete silence, and all he wanted to do was stomp and scream.

Taking a deep breath to nix the rage, Basch walked down the dark hallway to his sister's room. Silently, he opened the door and stepped inside. Lilli was fast asleep, her purple ribbon still in her hair. With a heavy heart, he went over to her beside. She looked so peaceful when she was sleeping, the corners of her mouth flicked up into a tiny smile. In her arms was a stuffed bear Basch had bought for her when she first went up to the cabin in the Alps, a sort of farewell gift. It was meant to be her comfort in the times he was gone – and now she couldn't sleep without it.

" _Ich werde dich fur immer und ewig leiben,"_ he whispered, kissing her forehead. She shifted a bit, her smile fading. Fearing she could wake at any moment, Basch took the note from his pocket and placed it on her nightstand. On top of the note, he placed his final gift; the locket he'd had with him in Bolesność. With a bit of a tremble in his hands, he undid her hair ribbon and gave her another kiss.

As he left, he took one look back at his little sister. This could quite easily be the last time he'd ever see her. He took in every detail – her honey hair, the glittery fingernail polish Natalia helped her put on, her cute little nose. Everything about the tiny girl was just perfect. Basch wanted his last memory of his sister to be one like this, not some teary breakup.

Swallowing hard, Basch gently shut the door and went out to the kitchen. He put the note to Yekaterina and Natalia on the counter, just a simple address scrawled across an index card – the address of a street in Szczecin he'd found online that was somewhat near the camp. If they got worried enough to actually come after him, all they would have to do is find that street. But hopefully he'd return home before everyone decided he was worth something.

And then he stepped outside, locking the front door behind him. Immediately all five guards who were stationed at the house were surrounding him. They started asking why he was fully dressed this late at night and what he was intending to do. Basch couldn't answer – who knows if those Russians had bugged him? If that agent they supposedly have heard Basch spill the whole plan, he doubted all of his guards would live to see tomorrow.

"Can I please go on just a short drive? I need some time to think about things. _Alone_." Basch mentally cursed at himself, why hadn't he worked this out before? He knew this was going to happen, and yet he didn't try to work around it until the last minute.

"Sir, one of us will have to go with you. It's orders."

Basch wondered how much trouble he could be in if he shot all of them. Not senseless killing, but just temporarily disabling the men. "I just need to go somewhere, and I need to be alone."

"Sir, you are not to be alone."

Okay, he was definitely going to shoot them.

That's exactly what he started to do, until a bullet embedded itself in the wall right between Basch and one of the guards. The agent was clearly not pleased with their arguing. And then there was another warning shot, going right into a guard's leg.

Almost instantly, the other four were off in the direction of the agent. Basch was left with just one guard, one injured guard. How foolish could these people get?

"Let's play a game. You let me go to my car, and I won't kill you," Basch pulled his handgun from his coat pocket, aiming perfectly at the man's head.

"Sir, I do not want to have to shoot you." The man somehow managed to pull his rifle into place. _Bravo,_ Basch laughed to himself.

"It won't kill me. Here's the thing," Basch started; slowly back towards where his car was. "If I get shot, I'll bleed for a little bit and be fine. But, if I shoot you…Well, I hope you don't have any family."

"Don't think I won't just because I'm guarding you," the man snarled, waving his rifle a bit.

"Oh, I'm _terrified_." Basch backed up into his car. He quickly found the handle, opening the door bit by bit.

"Do _not_ get in that car."

Basch gave him a half smile, throwing open the door of his car. The guard hesitated shooting, giving the Swiss just enough time to start the car and put a second hole in the man's leg. He must've been in too much shock to respond, because there were no shots fired at Basch. _I'm such a traitor,_ Basch thought a bit too cheerfully as he drove away. _Hope that man isn't in too bad of a shape._

Basch Zwingli was off to do the stupidest thing in his life.

* * *

Ludwig pulled the edges of his thin blanket closer, trying to retain some warmth. He couldn't remember being this cold, ever. His whole body felt frozen solid, fingers stiff from the winter winds. Even the past few winters hadn't been this horrible. This took freezing to a whole new level that was extremely difficult for him to understand.

Actually, everything was difficult for him to understand. Why was it so dark? Who were the two figures in the cell across from his, and why were they sleeping together? There was another question; why were they in cells? Ludwig couldn't remember doing anything worthy of prison. And what about this man sleeping next to him – perhaps he was his cellmate? Why was he so close? Maybe he was trying to keep him warm. In that case, he was doing a terrible job.

He specifically couldn't comprehend why he'd stopped shivering. Wasn't shivering a natural defense to the cold? Perhaps it was just so cold that his body realized that trembling wasn't going to do him any good. It was quite a terrifying thought – he vaguely remembered something about a certain condition where if you stopped shivering it was only getting worse. Or was it if you started shivering?

The German's thoughts were all muddled. For some reason, he could only think of a small, blond boy. _This must be how the boy meets his end,_ he told himself. _Giving into hypertension, or whatever it's called. Hypothesis? No, that's not right either. Good God, I'm tired. If only I could just fall asleep. But would this man here let me?_

Something inside of him told him not to fall asleep, but then the rest of him wanted to succumb to his exhaustion. There was a fuzzy warning in the back of his mind – do _not_ fall asleep under any circumstances. But what did he know? That was probably some stupid story someone told him as a little boy to scare him.

Slowly, he let his eyes close. Who cared about something he was told? Sleep seemed like a much better option right now. So, so much better.

"Luddy, don't you dare fall asleep," the man next to him snarled, shaking Ludwig gently.

"Please, just let me. I'm tired."

"We all are," another man with a thick accent added. He sounded strange, the way he rolled his r's. It reminded Ludwig of the villains in all the spy movies he'd ever seen. "But your brother is right. Sleep is very bad."

"If I fall asleep, will I die?"

"Roderich, shut up," the man next to Ludwig shouted. "Do not give Luddy any ideas."

"Why don't you fall asleep? Then we won't have to put up with you," an even stranger sounding voice said. He'd never heard an accent like that.

"Yao! Come on, we all love each other here. Stop encouraging Roderich." The man next to Ludwig seemed rather adamant to protect this Roderich character. Were they brothers? Or was there some secret relationship going on? "Roderich, I swear to God –"

"I'm not going to die yet," Roderich groaned apathetically. "Unfortunately, I haven't had the radium treatment yet. Do you think if I started up a big enough fight I could get it? What if I –"

"Why don't we all think of happy things?" The man who rolled his r's and sounded like he was from a spy movie suggested.

"Oh, real funny, Ivan. Especially since that's coming from you. Name one thing happy that doesn't have to do with Yao," Ludwig's possible cellmate laughed.

"Okay. What about a giant field of sunflowers, taller than I am, with bright golden petals. And it's sunny and warm and I don't have to put on a coat to even think of going outside. That's pretty happy."

Ludwig let that image the Ivan man described fill his thoughts. A beautiful field, full of the flowers. And it was nice and warm, with a perfect little shady area under a huge tree for him to sleep in. He wanted to go to that shadowy spot –

"Not so fast! Ludwig Beilschmidt, you have to stay awake," the man cradled Ludwig's face with one of his cold hands. "Please, I don't want to know what could happen if you fell asleep."

"Death!" Roderich announced all too gladly.

"Stop it! Stop it right now! Can we just focus on something else?" The man was getting rather frustrated with Roderich's apparent death wish. Ludwig wondered why he was so keen on dying. Did something happen to him?

"I think 's a nice thought," Ludwig murmured, snuggling just a bit closer to the strange man.

"Oh, God, your voice is slurred. Ludwig, you have to look at me, right now. I want you to focus on my eyes," the man ordered.

"I can't."

"Yes, you can. You have to."

"But I can't." Ludwig could hardly keep his eyes open, let alone focus on this strange man's red ones. They were very unusual, filled with fear. How did people even get red eyes like his? And his hair, it was so white, just like the snow. The snow that was making him freeze to death. He just wanted to go to sleep and let the cold fade from memory.

"Can you follow my finger?" The man started waving his hand about, but Ludwig couldn't tear his eyes from the man's crimson ones. They were just so intriguing, such a strange little oddity in this dark, cold world.

He started to slip back into sleep, closing his eyes again. The man struck him, which immediately pulled him from the darkness.

"Ludwig, don't you dare. Don't make me go into father mode with you."

"Father mode?" Roderich laughed. "Aren't you forgetting who his father is?"

The man rolled his eyes, giving Ludwig a tiny smile. "Brother, mind you."

"I was his original father. Wait. I just realized how strange it is that I'm his father and brother," Roderich said, sounding a bit disgusted.

"Your family is weird, aru," the one who wanted Roderich to die yawned.

"It isn't like yours is any better. And think about Ivan's family," Roderich snapped.

"My family is perfectly fine," Ivan shot back, seemingly offended by this Roderich person.

Roderich started laughing again. "Oh, yes, incest and murder are perfectly normal in every family."

"Belarus is just passionate. And I have not murdered anyone – yet. Would you like to be my next target?" Ivan snarled.

"Actually, I would."

"How did I know you would say that?" Ivan groaned, fed up with Roderich. What had the man done wrong? Ludwig couldn't find a good reason for the two to be angry with each other. And who was Belarus? She sounded creepy, whoever she was.

Ludwig closed his eyes again, imagining what this Belarus person looked like. But his thoughts slowly grew dark, the arguing of the people in the prison with him fading into white noise. Everything was warm now, far away from the cold of reality. Sleep was such a beautiful thing.

And he welcomed it.

"Ludwig? Oh, God, wake up!"

* * *

 _"Ludwig, I have someone you need to meet, right now," Roderich said, knocking on the boy's bedroom door._

 _Ludwig could hardly register what he'd said. He was fully aware of what had just happened – the final stages of hypothermia. Why couldn't he see it before it was too late? He should've listened to Gilbert. Was he ever going to wake up again?_

 _Taking a few deep breaths to calm down, Ludwig forced the ideas of death from his mind. He had a dream to enjoy right now. Worrying about the future was something to be done at a later time. Right now, all he cared about was finishing this little story before he awoke to a grim day. After all, he couldn't really die. He'd just wake up tomorrow morning very cold. So why should that stop him from enjoying the dream?_

 _"Can I at least get dressed first?" Ludwig called back, realizing he was dressed in his nightclothes._

 _"This person can be very…ah…temperamental. I'd rather you just come d-d-d-downstairs right now. I don't want to make him mad." Strange, Roderich didn't have a stutter._

 _Ludwig got out of bed, wondering who could be so unpredictable. When he opened the door to greet Roderich, he was met with a very nervous man. The Austrian looked absolutely terrified, urging the boy forward. His hands were shaking, lavender eyes flitting about fearfully. Whoever this was, he must've been downright horrifying._

 _When Roderich led him into the parlor, everyone immediately turned to look at the boy. Elizabeta, Basch, Feli, and a furry monster were all waiting. It took him a moment to realize that no, this was not some sort of bear someone had let into the house, but rather a man in a fur coat. His platinum blond hair was slightly tousled, his nose nearly identical to Ivan's, sans odd little bend. And his eyes – they were so full of life, glimmering as he looked at Ludwig with a child like curiosity._

 _"Is this little ally?" He asked in broken German, his accent choking out most of the words._

 _"Um…j-j-ja. This is Holy Rome." Roderich gave Ludwig a little shove._

 _"Hello, Holy Rome. Do you have other name?"_

 _"Ludwig," he answered, trying to figure out where he'd seen this man before._

 _The man smiled, standing up. He went over to Ludwig, kneeling down to be at eye-level. "Hello, Ludwig. I am Ivan."_

 _Ludwig tried and probably failed to contain his shock. This was what Ivan looked like? He hadn't seen the Russian in a normal light for so long – where were the little scars, the dried blood on his hands, the empty look? No, this man was not Ivan. It just couldn't be. The Ivan Ludwig knew didn't look a thing like this._

 _"What did you say about being allies?" Ludwig asked in a quiet voice, unable to get over the fact that this was Ivan._

 _"Has Roderich not told you? We are to fight together. My people and your people, up against tiny Frenchman."_

 _"Everyone is tiny to you, Ivan," Basch snapped._

 _"Well, yes. But this man especially small. France doesn't stand a chance against us," Ivan smiled. "So little Ludwig will join with me, da?"_

 _Ludwig glanced over at Elizabeta for support. What was he supposed to do? She nodded, motioning towards Ivan._

 _"I…I guess."_

 _Ivan's eyes lit up even more so than they already did. "Very good! We will destroy France together." He held out a gloved hand, Ludwig slowly taking it. What was he even getting Holy Rome into? Ivan could be completely insane at times – what was he like on a battlefield? This poor boy was going to have to –_

"Ludwig, wake up!"

 _Ludwig snapped back to the dream, stumbling backwards. What just happened? That was Gilbert's voice. But how was he –_

"Please, you have to wake up. Come on, Luddy, just open your eyes!"

 _"Are you alright?" Ivan suddenly seemed concerned for the boy. In fact, everyone did. They were looking at him like he was some kind of demon._

 _"He's probably just tired still," Elizabeta said in a scared voice, walking over to the child. "I'll take him back up to his room."_

 _Ludwig blindly followed her back, his vision going between the dream and the cell. Gilbert was in tears, shaking his baby brother to try and get him to wake up. Still, Ludwig couldn't seem to fully pull himself out of the dream._

 _"What's happening?" Elizabeta shut the bedroom door quietly, sitting down on the floor next to Ludwig. Had they really came all the way upstairs? He didn't remember any of that._

 _"Gilbert's trying to wake me up. I think I'm in hypothermia."_

 _"Oh, God. And you can't pull yourself out of this?" She put a hand on his shoulder and gently shook him like she was trying to force him to awaken._

 _"No, I –" The dream shattered again._

"Hey, Ludwig, can you see me?" Gilbert asked, taking Ludwig's pulse. Everything was blurry to him, and he was still so cold. "C'mon, you need to stay here. Dreamland is no place for you."

"But Elizabeta's talking to me," Ludwig groaned, trying to go back into the dream. And it was working; the darkness was starting to come back over him and the dream slowly reappearing.

"Elizabeta?" Roderich asked excitedly.

 _"Ludwig! Ludwig!" Elizabeta snapped a few times in his face, bringing him back to the fantasy. "Listen, you have to wake up. I know how much the dream means to you, but if you're really that bad you need to wake up. I have to stop interfering now."_

"Shit! Ivan, you're an expert – what the hell do I do?"

"I don't know!"

"Aren't you cold? Shouldn't hypothermia be natural for you?"

 _"I'm scared," was all Ludwig could manage to say. He didn't know what to do, death seemed right at his heels, and all he wanted to do was finish the dream._

 _"Don't be. You'll be just fine," she reassured him, stroking his hair. "Everything will be just fine. You'll wake up tomorrow morning and you'll be perfect again. Please, don't get upset."_

"So do I try and warm him up?"

"Well, duh!"

"Shut up, Yao! The hell do you know about this?"

 _"Please, Elizabeta, you have to help me," Ludwig cried, trying to clear the spots that abruptly appeared from his eyes._

 _"Elizabeta isn't here anymore."_

 _The blurriness fled from Ludwig's sight. He was back in bed now, with Ivan at his side. The Russian had a hand on Ludwig's head, gently stroking his hair. It was quite strange to see him being so affectionate to someone he'd only just met. And yet, he realized why Yao liked being so close to Ivan. There was this sort of calming power that he had – an almost motherly feel. He'd never seen this side of Ivan before, as the man Ludwig knew would never try and comfort him._

 _"Do you want me to go get her?" He asked, pulling away from the boy._

 _"No, you can stay. What happened?" Ludwig tried to remember what went wrong before the last little break, but all he could think of was Elizabeta's calm voice._

 _"You passed out. Elizabeta asked me to watch you while she got something. Are you sure you're alright, little ally?" Ivan said, biting his lip._

 _"I'm fine. But I have a bigger problem –"_

"Ludwig, I swear to God, you stay awake. No more of this shit."

"Threatening won't help him."

"I _know_! God, don't you think I know that?"

 _"Little one, you need to go back to those people," Ivan said, his eyes softening. "They want you to be with them."_

 _"How can you hear them?" Ludwig asked._

 _Ivan looked around like somebody else was in the room with him. He actually seemed nervous for once. "You are saying what they're saying. One who is close with death can often see into the end. And I think you're seeing your end. They love you, Ludwig. I'm sorry, I don't know too much about them. You're dying very slowly anyways. Anyone except for your family can see that."_

 _"Oh, no, this isn't my end. The boy isn't going to die like this. He has four more days," Ludwig explained, before realizing how strange he must sound. But Ivan didn't even seem bothered by his rambling._

 _"Like I said – you're near death. Now, you need to go to them." Ivan hung his head. "Why do they have me ally with a dying little boy? This is disgusting game you're playing, boss."_

 _"I'm really not dying yet!" Ludwig tried to assure him, but he was doubtful of his own words._

 _"Poor little one. It's a terrible end. You still have so much to live for."_

* * *

"Hey, Ludwig, get up already," Toris called from somewhere; it sounded like somewhere far away.

When a hand started shaking him for the thousandth time that night, Ludwig began to stir. It took him a moment to notice he wasn't freezing cold anymore. Actually, he was rather comfortable, if not a little too warm. This was nothing at all like his cell. He had a fluffy blanket too, nothing at all like the thin little one. And why was Toris sounding so concerned about him?

Slowly, Ludwig opened his eyes. Toris was standing over him, his olive green eyes full of a bizarre happiness.

"Listen, I have to go do something really quick. Don't try to get up quite yet. I'll be back in a few minutes," Toris said, disappearing into the entry hall. There was a slam of a door a minute later, and then footsteps fading away.

"Okay. Goodbye," Ludwig muttered. He pulled the fleece blanket closer, burying his face in the soft pillow. He started to go back to sleep, drifting off into a comfy dark land.

And then the reality struck him fast and hard.

He was not in the cells anymore. This was the living room of the office, definitely not a place he wanted to wake up. And even worse, Toris was actually being polite. Was he hung-over? Ludwig replayed their short conversation over and over in his head. No, the Lithuanian was actually quite normal this morning. Before the war normal, even.

Why was he acting like this? Did he do something to Ludwig while he was asleep? No, he wasn't bleeding or in any pain. And how had he gotten out of the cells anyway? He didn't remember that part of the night.

Why didn't he know what happened?

All he could do to get an answer was wait until Toris returned. Those were the longest minutes of his life; laying there and listening to the clock tick. And then there were these occasional quiet cracks, which certainly put him on edge. At least he wasn't cold anymore. That was another thing to add the list of mysteries – why had he been given a blanket? Was Toris actually _trying_ to help him?

And even worse, he had a fever. The hypothermia was determined to make him miserable even after it had left. Instead of being absolutely freezing, he was burning up.

"I'm back," Toris said, coming into the room. He had fresh blood on his hands, which he quickly wiped away on his dark coat. Still, scarlet stains went down into the sleeve of his coat and there was dark red around his fingernails.

He came over to Ludwig, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. "Oh, dear," he sighed, sounding a bit like a worried mother. "You still got that damned fever."

"What the hell is going on?" Ludwig tried to say, but his words were slurred together into a mess of sounds.

"Let me tell you a story." Toris sat down next to Ludwig, looking him right in the eye. "So, once there were two brothers that loved each other very much. One night, one of the brothers got sick. The other brother told the guards to go fetch a lovely man by the name of Toris. Toris was finally dragged out there – half-asleep and angry mind you, where the brother explains the plight of his sick little brother." He touched Ludwig's nose as he said this, although the German didn't have to be told who the baby brother was.

"And so, the brother and Toris struck a deal. Toris would take care of the sick baby brother until he got better and the big brother would spend two nights in the basement with Toris – who was allowed to do whatever he pleased. But this wasn't enough for Toris. So, to save the brother, the big brother was stuck in the basement for two days, a bear of a man was required to do some _very_ special things for Toris, the bear's tiny friend was put on a work detail to dig trenches for hours and hours, and one very lonely suicidal man was locked away in solitary confinement with the very things he needed to kill himself put just out of reach.

"Toris took the baby brother, and promised to take good care of him. Everyone loved the little brother so much that they willingly gave up several things to save him. And in the end, everybody was fine. The end," Toris chirped, his voice nauseatingly sweet.

Ludwig felt sicker than he already was. He couldn't bring himself to think that they'd all given something up so he could be safe. They all didn't like him that much. Gilbert, yes, and possibly Roderich, but the other two had no business trying to help him.

And yet, they did. They gave up their freedom for him.

"So, now I'm stuck here with you all day." Toris stood up again, disappearing into another room. "Do you want anything to eat?"

"No, I'm fine," Ludwig answered quietly, his words still slurred together. He didn't know what he wanted to do – cry or get very angry with his brother. How dare they give themselves up for him. He probably would've been just fine if they'd let him be. Now he was going to have to bear the burden of knowing they all were suffering for his sake.

"You're rather funny when you're out of it. When I brought you back, you couldn't stop talking about Ivan and Elizabeta. There was something about a war, a tiny Frenchman," Toris said, reappearing with a slice of chocolate cake in hand. "And something else about four more days."

"Can I ask you something?" Ludwig pulled the blanket closer, trying to forget about everyone else and what they could possibly be enduring.

"Go for it."

"Do you know anything about a boy named Holy Rome?"

Toris' eyes lit up – he unquestionably recognized the name. "And what do you need to know about this boy?" He asked, appearing a bit taken aback that Ludwig mentioned the boy.

"I just want to know about him."

"Say I do know something. Why would you need to know this?" He took a bite of the cake, waving the fork about as he spoke.

"It's just a question," Ludwig replied. Toris _knew_ something about the boy. And whatever it was, he'd been told not to repeat it.

"Okay. Let's assume that I do know something about this kid. And it's something I was told to never, ever, ever tell another being. Give me one good reason why I should tell you."

Ludwig thought about that for a moment. What reason really was there? He was curious? Really, Holy Rome should be the least of his worries. And yet, he'd thought about it constantly for four years now. His main focus should be escaping or staying out of trouble, not how a dead boy was doing and how the two were connected.

But perhaps that's what was saving him from becoming like Roderich was – completely hopeless. He had something to keep living for, something to look forward to. What would he be like without Holy Rome? The boy was unknowingly saving a man two hundred years in the future. And all Ludwig could do to thank him was try and make his last few days the best days of the boy's life.

"Never mind," Ludwig sighed, realizing how depressed he'd gotten himself in the past few seconds.

"You're a real character, Ludwig. One second you're all worried about this boy, and the next you don't want to hear about it. Not that I'm complaining," Toris laughed, leaning back in his chair. "By the way, your brother told me very specifically not to tell you anything about that boy. I'm not loyal at all to him, but I'm going to keep my word in this situation. After all, he's letting me have my way with him with very little resistance."

"Oh, really," Ludwig said, his voice barely audible.

"Mhm. And you know what's nice about him? He doesn't scream."

* * *

Ludwig was awoken by a very drunk Lithuanian. The man stumbled into the kitchen, coming back with a washrag and a glass full of vodka. If he was trying to be quiet, he failed miserably.

"Good mornin', Luddy," he said, giving him a tiny wave. In the dim lights, Ludwig could barely see that his hands were dotted with blood. His _brother's_ blood.

"What are you doing?" Ludwig asked as he started to leave. If he could distract Toris for long enough Gilbert wouldn't have to be tortured. It was the least he could do for his big brother, after what he'd done for him.

"I'm gettin' drunk before the hangin'."

"Who are you hanging?" Ludwig knew the answer, but he was going to do whatever he had to do to keep him from going back downstairs.

Toris, being the drunken idiot he was, took the bait. He came and sat down next to Ludwig, smiling the whole time. "It's a speech of figure. Wait, that's not right. 'S a figure of speech. See, I know what I'm talkin' about. Cause I am _totally_ not drunk."

"Right," Ludwig yawned, sitting up. Why did drunken people always deny being drunk? It was quite obvious to everyone else – they definitely weren't fooling anyone. "But who are you hanging?"

"It's this stupid little brat named like Gilbert or sumthin'. He's not very cooperative at night."

Ludwig suppressed the urge to hit Toris, somehow managing to keep a straight face. "So, do you remember us talking about Holy Rome?" He changed the subject quickly, before the Lithuanian remembered the man in the basement.

"What you wanna know 'bout him?" Toris asked, taking a rather large drink of the vodka. He got very excited all of a sudden, putting the glass down. "I gotta tell you a secret."

"What is it?"

"You can't tell nobody. I said I was gunna keep it secret. But yer a good kid, I think yah can hear it." He ruffled Ludwig's hair, still giving him that stupid grin.

"Why don't you tell me already?" Ludwig said, taking Toris' hand from his head. Only then did he realize that he still had blood on his hands. Quite revolted, Ludwig put the man's hand down, wiping the red marks off on his blanket.

"I could get in a helluva lot of trouble."

"Just tell me. I promise I won't tell a soul."

"But what if you do?" Toris started tearing up. Soon he was crying, burying his face in Ludwig's chest. "An' then everyone will be mad at me."

"Shh, it's okay. You have my word as a country that I wouldn't tell anyone," Ludwig said in his calmest voice, despite being extremely frustrated with the man.

"You're a liar."

"No, I'm not."

Toris sat up straight again, wiping at his tears. The blood left long, red streaks across his face, but he didn't seem bothered at all by that. "Alright, I'll tell yah." He leaned in close to Ludwig, the smell of vodka on his breath.

"Yer Holy Rome," he whispered.

"No I'm not. I'm Germany."

"No. Ivan told me 'bout it. Holy Rome died in battle. An' then he suddenly came back to life as you. You two are the same."

Toris wasn't even making sense anymore, although he never really did make sense. Ludwig and Holy Rome could not be the same person, and that was fact. He knew it. It was just a ridiculous thought that the two were each other.

But what had Roderich said last night? "I just realized how strange it is that I'm his father and brother." Was he implying the same thing? Then again, Ludwig was completely out of it. He could've heard wrong. And besides, Toris was not a reliable source; ever. He was not to be trusted, even when he was sober.

"Oh, really?" Ludwig said, trying not to seem so doubtful.

"Really. But 's good now. You turned out kinda sorta okay. I mean if we ignore the whole Na –"

"What very special things are you having Ivan do?" Ludwig interrupted before Toris could start on a rant about Ludwig's past.

The man looked away from him, his face bright red. "I can't tell."

"Please?"

"It's very personal, if yah get what I mean."

"Okay," Ludwig said, not wanting to go back into the whole crying thing again.

"Do you ever really, really, really hate someone?" Toris asked, leaning against the couch. "Like, yah wanna kill them when you see them, but yah can't?"

 _Why yes,_ Ludwig mentally growled. _You've just explained my feelings towards you._ "Maybe, but not to the murder levels."

"So, say there's this person, an' I really hate him. But at the same time, I love 'im. Not in a weird way," Toris snapped, looking up at Ludwig.

"I wasn't going to say that."

"Good. An' I don't know how to tell this person that I like 'im and hate 'im at the same time. So I can either be nice or punch 'im in the face." Toris looked at the blood on his hands, holding them up. "What should I do?"

"Perhaps you should try being nice to him," Ludwig suggested, trying to figure out who he was talking about. Ivan? Feliks? Maybe even Gilbert? Or was it Natalia?

"No, that won't do much good. What I really need is a way to tell them how I really feel," Toris sighed, taking another drink of the vodka.

"Being nice is always a start."

"Have you ever been married?" Toris asked.

"No."

"Well, when you do find the lucky lady or man – I ain't gunna judge yah – you'll learn that bein' married is sorta like a sick game of chance. Sometimes, bein' nice won't help. Yah think it's the right choice, but your spouse doesn't want yer sympathy," Toris explained, the look in his eyes shifting from happiness to a sort of melancholy nostalgia. "You gotta be real careful. One wrong word an' they'll blow a fuse. But then there's the real good moments, where yah wish they would never end."

"And what does this have to do with anything?" Ludwig asked.

"I love her, Ludwig. An' she's forgotten 'bout me. I want her be like me and Feliks were."

Was he talking about Natalia? Surely he was. Ludwig thought he was over her – he didn't seem all that bothered when he talked about her soberly. "And you can't apologize?" Ludwig yawned. "That seems like a rather simple solution."

"Yah don't just apologize for hurtin' so many people. It takes something more than that," Toris said quietly. "It takes somethin' a helluva lot more than that."

"I know. Saying sorry works fine and well when you're a child. Believe me, I know what you mean," Ludwig muttered, holding his head. He knew all too well what he meant.

"Can I show you somethin' real quick?" Toris perked up almost instantly, turning to face the German. Before Ludwig could respond, Toris pulled his shirt sleeve up, showing Ludwig his left wrist.

"What?" Ludwig asked, trying to find what he was showing him.

"Do yah not see that? Look, right here," he pointed to a shadow beneath the heel of his palm. "There's the zero, zero, one. Too bad I didn't get double o seven. That would've been cool. All James Bond an' shit."

Ludwig took Toris' hand, looking closely at his wrist. Sure enough, there were three black digits, much like…

The numbers on his neck.

"Where did you get this?" Ludwig whispered, looking back at Toris. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"Nah. I gave it to myself," Toris pulled his sleeve back up, hiding the number again. "My brothers got one too, so we're just like yah. I'm the first prisoner, Raivis is the second, an' Eduard's the third. Cause we're all stuck in this empire. Sort of symbolic metaphoric stuff, huh?"

"But why did you do that?"

"I wanted to suffer."

"But did you really need to go that far? That seems more like mocking us than suffering," Ludwig snarled. "Couldn't you just…I don't know, do something else? What about not being a horrible empire? Did that ever occur to you?"

Toris didn't reply. Once again, Ludwig resisted the urge to beat him senseless. This man had the nerve to enslave all of them and then pretend like he understood them. He understood _nothing._

"Why don't you set everyone free? Why did you even start this whole repeat of history?! This is all your fault, so don't you dare try and pretend like you're the victim here!"

"I'm sorry," Toris said so quietly Ludwig almost didn't hear him.

"Well, shit, that's not going to solve anything! You've taken away people's families! And can you just apologize for things like that? No, you dumbass! You took Elizabeta from us! And even worse – you laughed!" Ludwig roared before realizing he should really be quiet. If everyone woke up, who knew what could happen. "You're not the victim here, Toris," he whispered. "You're the monster."

Once again, Toris didn't answer. This time, it was not out of shame or lack of words; he'd blacked out. But Ludwig carried on like nothing had happened, ranting on and on about all of Toris' wrongs until he was so tired he couldn't continue.

"I hate you," Ludwig growled in a low voice. "I should kill you right now. But you know what? I'm not a cold hearted bastard like you."

* * *

 **A/N: Hello! I'm in a much better mood this week. I won our school's geography bee! Thank you Hetalia, for teaching me things about the world that I really needed to know, like Lithuania is a country in Europe, not Africa (I was a dumb kid, okay?)**

 **If you guys would like to see what I actually look like, go out to polski-doodle-liet on tumblr. There's only four posts. I wouldn't follow me, as I probably won't post nearly ever. But, you do get to see what I kind of look like. Unless of course, you'd like to think of me as a faceless being who just writes.**

 **But enough about me already. Good God, I sound like a narcissist.**

 **Any knowledge of hypothermia I use here comes from the TV show _I Shouldn't Be Alive_ and WebMD. So you know it's very accurate. I haven't had much firsthand experience with hypothermia, and I hope none of you have either! If you have, I'm sending many loving kisses from America!**

 **Thank you to** RogueCaptain **,** SoulEleri **(you made me have an ecstatic little party in my living room!)** LeShadowAce **,** cyrus010 **,** Seele Esser Deutsch **,** **and** Comix and Co **! You guys make my heart beat faster than it probably should.**

 **See you all next chapter!**


	24. Fall From Grace

Eduard quietly slipped out of his room, looking about the hallway uncertainly. He presumed everyone was still asleep, save for the wild card by the name of Toris. The Lithuanian hadn't come back up to his room last night – Eduard wasn't even sure if he was still in the office. Normally he wouldn't have been so bothered by Toris' absence and carried on with his daily routine.

But not this morning.

If by some odd chance Toris was still conscious, Eduard was running the huge risk of being caught. Even though he changed the locks on his door nearly every month, kept the radio hidden seamlessly, and encrypted all of his messages, Eduard was always on edge. The man who could have anyone he liked killed slept in the next room, hopefully unaware of the thousands of transmissions being sent and received by Eduard. There were things going on that guaranteed the death penalty right under Toris' nose – how was Eduard not supposed to be a train wreck of fear?

"Hey, Raivis," Eduard whispered, stepping into the boy's bedroom. Raivis was still sleeping, his eyebrows curved up in an expression Eduard had seen on his face one too many times – worry. Sometimes he really wondered how his brother could keep helping him with the escapees without having a panic attack. He was even afraid in his sleep, so how could he be so brave when he was awake?

Eduard shut the door behind him, walking over to Raivis' bedside and kneeling down by him. With a tentative hand, he brushed his golden curls from his eyes. He wasn't quite sure how to go about this loving thing – that was usually Toris' field of expertise.

"Listen, we have a Russian man on the line by the name of Ringleader. A _very_ demanding Russian," Eduard said softly, making sure to put emphasis on just how pushy this man was. Already he'd been yelled at, and they'd only been communicating for a few minutes.

Raivis groaned, pulling the blankets over his head. "How important is it?" He asked sleepily, his voice muffled by the covers.

"According to Ringleader, it's extremely important. As in, ' _you can't tell even our most trusted Underground agents'_ important and they're using one of those fancy signals that changes over thirty thousand times a minute. My little tracker can hardly keep up. So, yes, it must be of utmost importance."

"Can't it wait?" Raivis pulled the sheets back to look at Eduard pitifully.

"Yes, just let me go tell the nice man that it'll have to wait because you don't want to get up," Eduard snapped. "He threatened to strand me on a tiny island in the East Siberian Sea because I sneezed while he was talking."

"Seriously?"

"Does it look like I'm joking?"

Raivis gave another exhausted groan to prove how sleepy he was, slowly getting out of bed. "Okay, I'll come. But you have to make me pancakes for breakfast. Chocolate ones."

"Can't you just cooperate without some sort of tradeoff?" Eduard smiled, leading the boy back into his room. Once inside he dead-bolted the door and then went back to the radio set waiting patiently at his desk.

"Hello, Ringleader? You still there?" Eduard asked, putting on the headset. Raivis pressed his head to Eduard's, their way of sharing the only working set of headphones.

"Did you go make breakfast or did you get your friend?" Ringleader growled. "We've been waiting for three minutes."

Eduard shot Raivis an " _I-told-you-so"_ look. He shrugged, motioning for Eduard to continue. "Sorry, sir, my brother isn't all that cooperative." Raivis was taken aback by that comment, giving his brother a slight hint of a frown.

"Never mind that. Now, I am about to tell you very sensitive information. It is not to be repeated, ever. Can you handle that, or should I wait ten more minutes for you to go grab something else?" Ringleader said all too smugly.

"We can handle it," Raivis replied.

"Dear God, do you have a six year old working with you?! Who the hell was that?"

"That was _my_ _brother_ ," Eduard snarled, trying to seem as menacing as this Ringleader person was. "And he is my second in command. I'm going to ask you to respect him as much as you do me."

"I am over ten times your age, Mr. Ringleader," Raivis added proudly.

Ringleader sighed loudly, presumably upset with Raivis' age. "Sorry. It was a simple misunderstanding. Now, I'm going to give you your briefing. I will not repeat myself and don't you dare write anything down.

"Operation Circus will take place on December 25th, starting at 0300 hours. At exactly 0430, our tanks will begin the surrounding of Szczecin while we bring the plane in. Surrender is an option during that two hour and thirty minute window. However, both Mama Bear and Papa Bear will be killed on sight," Ringleader explained, using the code for Toris and Feliks, respectively.

"We are coming strictly for five things. A man by the name of Ivan Braginsky, number 2027, is our top priority. In the case of an emergency, not one of the others is of our concern. But Magician has, ah, _complied_ with our offers. Because of our agreement, we will be taking Yao Wang, number 8023, Ludwig Beilschmidt, number 140086, Gilbert Beilschmidt, number 140085, and Roderich Edelstein, number 64001.

"Liberation is not our goal. We do not care what happens to the others. There are only five people out of the recorded two million prisoners currently in the country of Poland's possessions that we want. The others are nothing to us."

"Holy shit," Eduard whispered, too fazed to say anything else.

They were really going to do this, weren't they? This wasn't a joke someone was playing – this was a real operation with plans and code names and timing down to the last minute. Eduard looked over at Raivis, who had the same stunned reaction. It was almost impossible to believe someone was actually going to try a plan this massive and dangerous. The mere thought of trying to take down one of the most heavily guarded cities in the Empire right now was ridiculous.

"I would expect a higher level of professionalism from someone like you," Ringleader said.

"Terribly sorry, sir. But you're really going to do this? I mean, it doesn't sound just the slightest bit suicidal or insane?"

"Believe me, I know. But when you're ordered by the president to do something like this, there's no escape." It was rather strange to hear Ringleader admit his plan was a mass murder waiting to happen. He would've expected the man to be backing the lunatic idea all the way. "Now, let me tell you how you're going to fall into this.

"Your job is to keep Mama Bear and Papa Bear completely clueless. Of course, they'll notice when the tanks come in, but until then keep them in the dark. Shut off all communications, keep them preoccupied, do whatever it takes to cut them off from the rest of the world. You are our most crucial element here. Do not mess anything up."

"Yes, sir!" Raivis chirped. He gave the radio set a salute out of habit despite the fact Ringleader couldn't see it.

"God, are you sure that boy is over twelve?"

The Latvian's enthusiasm faded, replaced by shame. "Sir, I'm not a little boy."

"Whatever you say. Your codename is Lion Tamer. And young boy – I mean, adult with a childish sounding voice – you are Stallion. Oh, right, Magician wants to tell you hello," Ringleader sighed, his voice fading as he removed the headset.

"Good morning, douchebags," The familiar voice of an uncooperative Swiss snarled.

"Bas –" Raivis started to say before Eduard clapped a hand over his mouth.

" _You're_ Magician?" Eduard asked in a shaky voice. "You're actually alive?"

Basch sighed loudly. "Why can't anyone just accept that I'm not dead? Listen to me; you better keep my brothers in perfect condition. These two may not be so excited to kill you, but I am. One tiny little slip up and I'll be sure that you're right there with Mama Bear and Papa Bear. I'm more than happy to murder you."

"There's another one of you? Isn't it just you and Ringleader?" Raivis didn't even seem bothered by the comment about his possible execution.

"Hello there. I'm Acrobat," a different voice greeted them – this one much less aggressive sounding. "It's a pleasure to talk to you two."

"Quite certainly. At least one of you doesn't seem to be all that hostile," Eduard huffed, wondering just what Ringleader could look like. He pictured a stereotypical Russian, complete with the _ushanka_ and big nose. There were probably lots of military medals pinned to his chest for his brave acts, and maybe a scar or two to go along with them.

"I am so sorry about Ringleader. He just recently learned that Basch has a slight limp, although I pointed that out to him yesterday," Acrobat apologized, sounding a bit snarky.

"You obviously weren't loud enough!" Ringleader shouted from somewhere in the background. "Otherwise I would've said that we can't use him!"

"I can still move faster than your sorry ass," Basch roared.

"Oh, you want to play that game with me, short brat?"

"Same could be said for you!"

Acrobat groaned quietly – he sounded like he'd heard this nonstop. Soon Ringleader and Basch were screaming insults at the top of their lungs, giving Eduard a headache. He couldn't imagine what Acrobat was going through.

"It appears we have to go. See you on Christmas. I'm looking forward to meeting you two in person," Acrobat sighed.

"Roger that. Over and out."

* * *

God, did his head hurt.

Toris awoke to a pounding headache, the hazy memory of Gilbert's blood on the stone floor, and a sick German. He didn't quite know what problem to start with. The migraine was definitely up there on the list, but at the same time he couldn't remember if he'd locked up the basement door. And then there was Ludwig, face flushed red from the fever. Maybe he should just go back to sleep and it would all go away. After gazing up at the ceiling for a few moments in serious deliberation, Toris finally decided that getting rid of the dammed headache was his first order of business.

Slowly he got to his feet, stumbling into the kitchen. He could never figure out how people could be drunk nearly every day – one night out of a few months was enough for him. Thank God Basch was gone. That man was turning him into an alcoholic, what with all of his little rebellions and fights. If he'd actually stayed for a while longer, Toris might have ended up dead from alcohol poisoning.

He reached up for a glass from the cabinet, the black number on his wrist in plain sight. Almost instinctively Toris hid it, wondering how his shirt sleeve had gotten pushed so far up on his arm. Toris prayed he didn't show the number off to anyone in his drunken stupor. Even leaving the basement door unlocked was nothing compared to that. If someone other than his brothers knew that Toris was a prisoner too, who knows what could happen? They could use it to their advantage or tell Feliks, which would then get him in even more trouble. Feliks wasn't too fond of the whole idea that they were prisoners.

But it was the truth, wasn't it? The four of them were guarded just as heavily as the prisoners. They weren't allowed to go any further than Szczecin on official business – there were no more meetings in foreign lands. Toris stepped outside of the camp for a few minutes just a couple of weeks ago without telling anyone, and the leader of Poland-Lithuania called them, personally, to tell Toris that he wasn't allowed to leave the premises.

"Shit," Toris groaned, although he hadn't intended to say it out loud. But what was the appropriate reaction when he had a huge headache and there was no aspirin?

Toris glared at the medicine cabinet in frustration; somewhat hoping that would make a bottle of aspirin appear. He knew he was going to have to go upstairs, although he really didn't want to. Actually, all he wanted to do today was sleep. But this was a prisoner-of-war camp, and as long as two men by the names of Gilbert Beilschmidt and Ivan Braginsky were still here, Toris wasn't going to get a break. And he had to take care of Ludwig today on top of all of his normal work. So he had to get over it and go upstairs.

He walked back out into the living room, taking a quick glance at Ludwig. The man looked rather pale, muttering on about something to do with bears. Something in Toris, a remnant of the past, felt bad for him. He'd always been the motherly one out of the three – taking care of them when they were sick, making sure they got enough to eat, covering up for Raivis. It was in his nature to be worried about others, no matter how desperately he tried to hide it.

 _I'll bring him back some aspirin,_ Toris internally sighed, wishing he wasn't so concerned about other people.

He started up the stairs, cursing at himself for drinking so much. But soon his attention was drawn away from the headache. Someone was talking in a fast language, their words quiet and secretive. It took Toris a few moments to realize that they were speaking Russian. Strange, not one of them ever spoke in Russian unless they were telling Ivan something others couldn't hear.

 _"Terribly sorry, sir. But you're really going to do this? I mean, it doesn't sound just the slightest bit suicidal or insane?"_ Eduard asked in the tongue he normally detested. What was going on?

There was a long pause afterwards. Curious, Toris went over to Eduard's door. Toris pressed his ear to the door like a young child; quite worried as to whom Eduard could be talking to.

 _"Yes, sir!"_ Raivis added enthusiastically – he was in on whatever was going on as well?

They exchanged some more coded words after that, Toris trying to figure out what it all meant. Only when Eduard ended with a " _Roger that. Over and out_ ," did it fully dawn on him that they weren't talking to each other. No, they were talking to someone else through wireless radio – the enemy, by the sounds of it.

"Are we really going to do this?" Raivis asked, appearing rather nervous.

"Shh. I don't know where _he_ is." Toris shrank back at the exaggerated "he," knowing it was probably him. "For all I know, the monster is right outside the door. Don't you dare tell anyone anything about this, okay?"

"I won't."

"Do you have the things prepared for tonight?" Eduard's voice nearly disappeared as he said this.

"Well, there's a slight problem," Raivis said. "One of the men is…well…dead."

"That's not a huge problem. Hell, if anything else, it saves us some time."

Raivis gave a quivering sigh, which usually happened right before he cried. "I know. I just like it when everyone is okay. And I really liked this guy too."

"We can work just fine with nineteen men."

"But I should've made sure he was okay! Eduard, we're trying to get people out of here alive!"

"I know that," Eduard's voice got softer, much more kind than usual. "But we'll just have to let nineteen people go instead of twenty. That man is in a better place now. There's nothing we can do about it besides help everyone else."

 _What?_

No, they couldn't be. Toris refused to believe his brothers were helping people escape. But it made sense – all of Eduard's absences, the abnormal amount of deaths every Friday, Raivis making copies of something at three in the morning, and the gunfire in the forest with no bodies to prove it. He didn't want to put all the clues together. Part of him wanted to think that they were all together in this. The two of them just couldn't be traitors.

They'd all joined this empire together, promising to protect their people. And if the two were letting the prisoners back into the world, weren't they putting their citizens in danger?

And out of the blue, Toris got a horrid idea. It was just a sick little thought in the recesses of his mind – a morbid scheme from so many years of bloodshed and torment. It was rather well put together for being so instantaneous. But on the other side, it was a horrible thought. Yet, he really wanted to go through with the plan. Something told him it was the right thing to do.

"It's not your fault. Listen; let's go make the chocolate pancakes. We'll get them all out tonight, and everything will run smoothly. C'mon, Stallion, we're going to be out of here by Christmas," Eduard reassured him, footsteps coming towards the door.

Toris stumbled backwards, catching himself on the wall. What did he mean by Stallion? And what about Christmas? There were so many questions Toris wanted to ask – but he was about to be caught unless he could think of a good ruse in three seconds. He ran for his bedroom, hoping he could open the door before –

"Toris?"

The Lithuanian cringed at the sound of Eduard's voice. He was going to have to answer him. What was he going to say?

He turned to face them – Raivis was still in his nightclothes and trembling, and Eduard was completely pale. They were _terrified_. Toris suppressed a smile, knowing he'd see this look again tonight.

"Good mornin', Eddy!" Toris slurred, trying his best to seem still drunk.

The colour came back to Eduard's face; Raivis wasn't shaking so badly anymore. "Oh, God, where were you last night?" Eduard asked, completely buying into the act.

"'S a secret. Better question, the hell were yah?" Toris leaned against the wall, glancing over at the two.

"We were asleep, like most normal humans typically are. How much did you drink last night?"

"Only a little bit," Toris said, thinking back to the nearly empty vodka bottle in the fridge. If only a little bit meant more than half.

Eduard pushed up his glasses, looking over at Raivis worriedly. "I've been meaning to talk to you about this, Toris. It really isn't good for you to be drunk all the time."

"I ain't drunk," Toris smiled, walking over to Eduard. "What do yah think yer sayin' to me? Callin' me a drunkard, aren't yah?" He poked Eduard's chest, grateful for their tiny difference in height. It made him seem a bit more intimidating, causing Eduard to get tense again.

"No, I wasn't saying that. I…I just don't want you to be like Ivan was. You need to get to bed, okay?" Eduard pushed Toris away from him, trying to hide his worry for his brother.

Toris shook his head, stepping right back up to the Estonian. "I ain't goin' unless you apologize."

"I'm just concerned for your health. That's not something to apologize about."

"Yes, it is."

"Please, Toris, calm down. We're all scared for you," Raivis said, grabbing his big brother's hand. "Go to bed."

The Lithuanian almost broke his act for a moment when Raivis looked up at him with his big violet eyes. He knew Raivis was probably worried about him, much more so than Eduard. This boy was so sweet – how could he be involved with something like escapes and endangering the people? Surely there was a mistake.

Toris gave up the stubborn act, letting Raivis lead him into his bedroom. The boy helped Toris into bed, his hands shaking.

"Goodnight, Toris."

"Goodnight, Latvia," Toris muttered, letting his voice become nearly inaudible.

Raivis was a bit startled – they never called each other by their country names anymore. But he quickly brushed that aside, walking back out of the room.

"I love you, Lithuania. Whatever happens, I still love you. You're my brother, I can't hate you." Raivis let the door close with a gentle click, making Toris' heart wrench. Raivis would be exempt from tonight's plan, just by that little remark.

Toris waited until Eduard and Raivis' voices and footsteps faded away, then got out of bed and went over to Eduard's bedroom. Much to his surprise, he found the door locked. Even worse, his key didn't fit. _The bastard changed the lock,_ Toris realized. He tried kicking at the door and even an improvised lock pick, but nothing seemed to work.

This was going to take a bit more work than he originally thought.

* * *

 _"Elizabeta, can I ask you something?" Ludwig said, handing her another damp sheet._

 _"How serious is this?" She took the sheet from him, pinning it up on the clothesline. "Is it about Roderich?" Her voice took on a much more worried tone – Ludwig had already told her about Roderich's punishment in exchange for Toris' help. Now she was absolutely terrified Roderich would somehow be able to kill himself._

 _"No. It's about me."_

 _"Oh, okay. Ask away then," she sighed, glancing over at Ivan and Feli. Ivan had somehow gotten roped into playing princesses with the girl, making flower crowns for Feli and her doll._

 _"So, let's say I've been told something. And I think it's a lie," Ludwig started, looking up at the Hungarian. "But I sort of want to believe it at the same time."_

 _"Who told you this?"_

 _"Toris."_

 _"So it's probably a lie. What did he tell you?"_

 _Ludwig bit his lip, wondering if he should tell her. "Firstly, he was drunk, so he really could be lying. But he…he told me I was Holy Rome."_

 _"Lie," Elizabeta answered almost automatically, looking away from Ludwig._

 _"But he said that when Holy Rome died, the boy suddenly came back to life as younger me. And it makes sense too. When the empire dissolved, I came into existence, so –"_

 _"Don't buy into that. He's just using that to get to you. You are Germany and have always been Germany, okay?" She sounded almost angry with him, still refusing to look at him. "And for the love of God, don't tell anyone else what he told you."_

 _"Oh. Sorry I asked," Ludwig said quietly. At least he knew that Toris was lying now and didn't have to be so unsure of his past. But it hurt when Elizabeta got that frustrated with him._

 _"Hey, it's okay," Elizabeta sighed, looking back at Ludwig. She must've sensed the defeat in his voice, because she got down on her knees to be at eye level with him. "I didn't mean to get so mad. Just…"_

 _"Just what?"_

 _"Can we wait until Christmas to figure this all out? That's three weeks away, right? I'll tell you everything then," she promised._

 _"Mr. Russia, you can't just kill the princess because you want yours to be the ruler!" Feli cried. Ludwig looked over at the two – Ivan a stuffed bear in one hand and a doll in the other, making it look like the bear was tearing the girl's internals out._

 _"Why not? That's how it works in my country," Ivan explained, holding up the stuffed bear he'd been given as a princess. "And this is bear, not girl. Bears eat girls. So it does make plenty of sense."_

 _"Bears do not eat princesses!" Feli pulled her doll close to her, trying to protect it from the savage toy bear._

 _"Yes they do. Once I saw a bear eat a whole village."_

 _"Stop that!" Elizabeta scolded. "She's a young girl – just let her play the way she wants to play."_

 _Ivan fell back on the yard, groaning loudly. "Why doesn't little ally play with the girl?" He suggested, looking at Ludwig almost deviously._

 _"Will you?" Feli asked. "You could be the hero and slay the evil bear princess!"_

 _"If I have to," Ludwig muttered, going over to Ivan. He tried to take the stuffed bear from him, but Ivan was dramatically stronger than him. The Russian pushed Ludwig away, holding the bear tight to his chest._

 _"You can't fight a wild bear with just your hands, little ally. It takes weapons and planning. Rule number one of war – you never go into a battle unprepared."_

 _"Fine. I will go get a weapon." Ludwig went back into the house, searching for Basch. The Swiss always had a knife or gun on him._

 _The dim lights cast long shadows over the floor of the hallway he was searching, mixing with the eerie silence to give the manor a ghostly feel to it. With Gilbert gone, Ludwig found the house eerily quiet. There were no other sounds besides his footsteps. This was exactly how every haunted mansion in the horror books Ludwig secretly enjoyed was described. All it needed was a few dead bodies, an ominous flash of lightning, the obvious ghost, and whispering voices to make it perfect._

 _"…He'll be dead soon."_

 _Ludwig jumped, pressing his back against the wall. His heart was pounding against his chest, hands shaking. Was that just one of the whispering voices he thought would make this place seem haunted? Surely there wasn't a spirit lurking around here, was there?_

 _"You don't have to be so upfront," a different voice – thankfully it was Roderich's – said._

 _"Well it's the truth isn't it? Ivan told me the same thing last night," the first voice to speak that Ludwig now knew was Basch snapped. "He said it's like giving a boy a terrible dying wish."_

 _"I know. But he has to go to war. There's no way around it."_

 _"Maybe if you hadn't chased Gilbert away we could've sent him." Basch stomped his foot, something he did rather often to accentuate his words. Gilbert once told him it was how the Swiss made up for his height, by always being angry and intimidating._

 _"He left on his own accord," Roderich growled. "And he wouldn't have gone to war."_

 _"Did he really leave by choice? Or was it just because you can't hold your little empire together anymore? I mean, look at yourself."_

 _"Stop it," Roderich said in a low voice._

 _"It's the truth, isn't it?" Basch laughed, accompanied by the sound of footsteps going out of the room. "All I want for that kid is for him to have a nice death, and you can't keep yourself together, so the boy's going to have to go rot to death on a battlefield with Ivan. We could put him out of his misery in the night instead of having him suffer. Like I said, let's kill him now and save the –" Basch fell short, noticing Ludwig against the wall._

 _"Can I borrow a knife?" Ludwig asked in a weak voice._

 _Was Basch really going to murder him?_

 _"Oh, uh, sure," Basch stammered, drawing the knife from a sheath on his hip. He handed it to Ludwig, the German half expecting him to plunge it into his chest._

 _Roderich appeared in the doorway, the bloody lines coming from his mouth again. "What are you doing with a knife?"_

 _"I'm going to kill a bear," Ludwig answered quietly._

 _"If you're doing Ivan in, you have to take off the scarf first. Then there won't be as much of a mess," Basch explained, making a slicing motion across his throat._

 _"I will."_

 _"What in God's name are you trying to teach that boy?" Roderich snapped._

 _"Come on, Roddy, let the kid play. He'll never learn the art of warfare if he doesn't use a knife."_

 _"Thank you," Ludwig said, looking up at Basch nervously._

 _"No problem. Would you tell Elizabeta that Roderich is bleeding again?"_

 _"Am not," Roderich said, wiping at his mouth in a vain attempt to hide the blood._

 _"I'll tell her." Ludwig nodded, turning away from them._

 _Ludwig walked as fast as he could without running away from the two, still expecting some sort of blow to the head or a gunshot. By the time he got back outside, his heart was beating quickly at the thought of the Swiss hunting him down. Now he was terrified to even be near the man._

 _"What took you so long, little ally?" Ivan smiled up at him, making the stuffed bear wave a paw. "Bear could've eaten whole castle in time it took you to come back."_

 _"Sorry. I had to do something," Ludwig apologized, trying to get himself back under control. "Elizabeta, Roderich's bleeding again."_

 _Elizabeta groaned, putting the book she had just started to read down. "Alright. Ivan, will you watch these two while I go take care of him?"_

 _"Of course."_

 _"Thank you. Ludwig," she sighed. "Don't cut anyone up, alright?"_

 _"I won't."_

 _Once she left, Ivan sat upright and turned to face Ludwig. He put the stuffed bear to the side, standing up. From a sheath he drew his own knife, holding it out in a challenging manner._

 _"Now, little ally, show me how you would kill a bear. We have a war to win."_

* * *

Eduard shot off the final round, watching as the last of the men disappeared from the forest. Yet another successful escape. Nineteen people were on their trip to freedom now, running far from hell.

He wanted to go with them so badly it hurt.

"All accounted for," Raivis said, his words barely audible. "We really need to head back."

"Right," Eduard sighed. Without another word to his brother, he started walking towards his prison.

What he wouldn't give to be free like the men he'd just saved. Eduard hated going back into the camp gates, surrounded by barbed wire fences humming with electricity. He couldn't stand being in the same house with Toris and Feliks, he never wanted to see people die; he couldn't bear Toris coming upstairs with blood on his hands anymore.

He couldn't accept watching his big brother slowly slip into what Ivan used to be.

 _Toris is still completely denying it,_ Eduard told himself, kicking at the gravel path. _But what more proof does he need? He's constantly drunk, meaner than I've ever seen him, sadistic, violent and twisted – he's not Toris anymore. It's almost like he's a different man._

Even this morning could be used as a prime example. His hands had dried red spots, he was obviously drunk, and got angry with Eduard. This was not Toris. The real Toris would never get mad with anyone, would never think of being intoxicated after their time at Ivan's home, and would never hurt someone. It was all just a big lie, something his brother had fabricated to seem much more frightening than he really was. He was trying the same trick Ivan used so many years ago.

But deep down, Eduard knew his brother was still good. Somewhere in Toris, there had to be a scrap of humanity. Sure, it must be buried quite deep, but it was there. Because his brother had a human heart –

"Eduard, are you missing something?"

"What did you say?" Eduard asked, turning to face Raivis. The boy was hiding behind him, clutching the records to his chest like a shield. He was trembling again, completely pale. Words didn't seem to be something he was capable of at the moment, so he pointed a shaking finger to something in front of Eduard.

Eduard was greeted by Toris, holding a strange dented grey box in his arms and one of their guard dogs on a short leash. The dog immediately started snarling in Eduard's direction, lips curled back to reveal a row of gleaming fangs.

"Hush, Vytautas," he said, tugging gently on the leash. "Now, Eduard, I think you've lost something."

"Wh-wh-what have I lost?"

Toris threw the smashed box down in the dirt, where it landed with a metallic crunch. In the starlight, Eduard could barely make out the dials and little antenna on the box. His radio lay on the forest floor, its wires hanging out from the top.

Eduard didn't know how to respond. He was rather furious with Toris at first, considering he'd spent plenty of good money and time on that little radio. And then the anger faded into complete shock – how had he found it? It was hidden perfectly, behind a panel of the ceiling Eduard had cut out of his closet. But soon the astonishment changed to outright fear.

"Drop the gun. No, even better, throw it," Toris barked.

Slowly, Eduard took off the rifle, tossing it aside. He'd finally been caught. Eduard might as well slit his throat right now; death was sure to be his sentence. There was no way Toris would let him get away with this.

"Now, would you like to skip straight to the part where I announce your punishment, or do you want to refuse ever seeing this?" Toris gestured to the bruised radio, the guard dog seemingly glaring at Eduard.

Eduard took a shuddering breath, stepping forward. All he had left in the way of hope was lying. "I've never seen that thing in my life. I have no idea what sort of sick joke you're playing, but I refuse to let you push me around like this."

"Oh, bravo," Toris smiled devilishly, loosening his grip on the leash. "How can you explain that I found it in your closet?"

"You put it there to frame me. Admit it, you see me as a threat," Eduard said, trying to come up with yet another lie fast enough to confuse Toris. If he could just have a little bit of time, he could think up a plan. He could grab the rifle, and then hold Toris at gunpoint. No, that'd never work – he had that dog with him.

"You're right about one thing. I do see you as a threat – a threat to my nation's security."

" _Your_ nation?" Eduard grabbed Raivis, pulling him to his side. "What happened to us being in this together?"

Toris rolled his eyes, acting like he was so much smarter than them. "You were never in this, Eduard. Traitors don't count in our ranks. I know you were talking to someone this morning. In Russian, might I add? Now, if you were really part of this, you'd know Russians were the enemy."

 _He knows._

"And even more, how could you possibly explain being out here, right as nineteen men 'died,' with a rifle, no bodies, and Raivis holding the records?"

"Don't you dare try and pull Raivis into this," Eduard growled, pulling the binder full of papers from the boy's arms. "This is all my doing."

"Oh, no, I wouldn't _dare_. Raivis is fine. But you, Eduard. I thought I could trust you still. But I guess I was wrong." Toris looked over at the dog, then up at Raivis.

"Latvia, be a dear and step away from the traitor," Toris ordered.

"D-d-don't you call me L-L-Latvia!" The boy snapped, attempting to seem defiant. Eduard flinched – why couldn't he just follow orders for once? "I'm nothing but R-R-Raivis to you!"

"Okay, _Raivis_." Toris said his baby brother's name with venom in his voice, green eyes glaring right through him. "Get the hell out of the way or I will have Vytautas tear your throat out as well."

"No! I'm in this with Eduard – i-i-if you want to k-k-kill him, you're going to h-h-have to kill me too!"

Eduard gave his brother a shove, trying to get him to move. "Please, Raivis, get out of this."

"No," Raivis cried, holding Eduard's hand. "We're in this together."

"I _said_ go."

"But I don't want you to die! Toris won't hurt me!"

"Wrong again!" Toris smirked, letting go of the leash.

The dog lunged at Eduard, knocking him down and tearing at his chest. Eduard put his arms up to protect his throat, and the beast sank its teeth into them as well. He kicked the dog and screamed insults, but Vytautas seemed to be trained with only one instinct – kill. His canines shredded Eduard's arm, trying to get to his throat.

Raivis backed away, trying not to look at the blood pouring from the gaping hole in Eduard's arm. There was red everywhere. If that dog didn't get off of him soon, Eduard wasn't going to be able to recover in time to get away. Where had the rifle gone? He could get to the gun and kill the dog before –

He walked right into something, or rather someone.

"You are such a naughty boy, Latvia. Always causing trouble," Toris whispered, putting his brother in a chokehold.

"Stop calling me that!" Raivis shouted, clawing at Toris' arm.

"But you're my brother, Latvia. I should call you by your real name," Toris said smoothly while rocking him back and forth, seemingly unfazed by Eduard's cries for help.

"I'm not your brother anymore! You can go rot in _hell_ for all I care! You're a sick bastard, Toris, and I'm ashamed that I even called you my brother!"

Toris dropped Raivis, shoving him out of the way. Raivis looked up at him, his blue eyes wide. Had he really just mouthed off Toris without stuttering?

"Oh, dear," the Lithuanian sighed, pulling something from his pocket. "I really hoped it wouldn't have to come to this."

Raivis saw the blue glow in Toris' hand. He had to stop him. This wasn't a matter that being a nation could solve like a dog bite was – this was suddenly a game of life or death.

"Toris, stop! I take back what I said!" Raivis said, grabbing for Toris. "Don't hurt Eduard, please! He's not trying to –"

Raivis stumbled back as Toris struck him.

He'd never hit Raivis before. This was completely new. Raivis held a hand to his face, trying to register what had just happened. Tears started welling up in his eyes – his face stung, Eduard was still screaming for help, and Toris had completely snapped. He was horrified, and this wasn't just his normal anxiety. For the first time in a long while, Raivis began to cry.

"Oh, don't cry," Toris said, his voice mockingly sweet. "It's okay."

"Just stop this!" Raivis sobbed, wiping at his eyes.

"Heel, Vytautas!" Toris called, disregarding Raivis' words. The dog immediately got off of Eduard's chest, trotting happily back to its master. Toris gave it a few congratulatory pats, walking over to Eduard.

Eduard's vision was going rather quickly, darkness flooding over his eyes. There was blood all over him – staining his coat, spotting his glasses. He couldn't even register the pain in his arm anymore. But he could see Toris grab his arm, looking for the perfect vein. In a last ditch effort to save himself, Eduard grabbed for the syringe. Somehow, he managed to push him away for just a moment.

"I should've done this earlier," Toris growled, pinning Eduard down. The gaping disaster on his arm immediately flared up again, making the Estonian scream. Toris howled with laughter, his eyes gleaming like a madman's. Was this going to be his last sight? The brother he'd loved, trying to kill him?

Toris jammed the needle into Eduard's arm rather forcefully, releasing the radium.

* * *

 **A/N: Oh, deary me, I've made a horrible mistake.**

 **My dear little sister - the one I talk so proudly of - has just now expressed how much she hates me because of what I'm currently doing to Eduard. Eduard happens to be her all time favourite character, besides Antonio.**

 **But back to the story. So, a little thing that I thought was neat was that Vytautas was named for the Lithuanian Grand Duke in 1392. He was defeated by the Mongols, but managed to beat the Teutonic Knights with Poland's help at the Battle of Grunwald.**

 **Have any of you seen that extra episode on said battle in World Twinkle yet? My sister and I were watching it, and at the part where Lithuania holds a knife to Prussia's throat my sister goes,**

 **"Oh, my God, he's acting like Toris. Stop it, baby, next you're going to be beating up Ludwig and drinking your sorrows away! Please, Prussia, stop him before it's too late!"**

 **Big thank-you's go out to** DragonPancakes673 **,** AnimeKnightmare **(hah, puns!)** SoulEleri **, the mystery guest reviewer** Le Queeeen **,** SeeleEsserDeutsch **(I only cosplay Russia so far, but I have intents to do Lithuania and France next) and my dear little** Comix and Co **!**

 **Also, if you guys like human AU's, go check out my little oneshot For Those Below!**

 **See you all next chapter!**


	25. Slipping Further Away

Toris cracked opened the front door, listening for any signs that Feliks was in the vicinity. If he got caught like this, the Lithuanian would never hear the end of it. Thankfully, he could hear the pounding of water and the faint lyrics to some song – was it Katy Perry or A-ha today? He'd have plenty of time to switch out prisoners. Feliks normally took hours to actually get moving in the morning, and his specialty for avoiding work was taking very long showers. So Toris had a good twenty to thirty minutes to finish what needed to be done and clean up. By the time Feliks came downstairs he could have breakfast made and Raivis calmed down.

He fully opened the door, Vytautas bounding past him and disappearing inside. Dogs were strictly forbidden to be in the house by Feliks, but what did it matter to Toris? Cleaning up the disaster he was about to create was already on the list. There was bound to be blood on the floor, perhaps signs of a struggle, and now dog fur. As long as Feliks didn't know it happened, it never happened. That was the little mantra between Raivis, Toris, and –

 _Oh, dear,_ Toris said to himself. _The Baltic Duo just doesn't have the same ring to it. Perhaps we can find ourselves a new Estonia._

Tightening his grip on Eduard's collar, he pulled the unconscious man inside. Raivis followed close behind, his face red from crying. He was shivering violently, as he'd torn his shirt into strips to make bandages for Eduard's arm, gave the man his coat for more protection from the cold, and refused Toris' offers for a coat. Although Toris would've liked it if Raivis would've let Toris finish Eduard off right there, his little brother was insistent, trying to dress his wounds and comfort the Estonian. With that injury and the radium in his system, the bespectacled traitor was already on his deathbed. Why prolong the agony? Even Toris wasn't that cruel.

"I'll take Eduard up to his room," Raivis said dazedly, closing the door behind him. He sounded far away, looking blankly down at his shoes instead of up at Toris. The shock had certainly taken quiet a toll on him.

Toris forced back a grin – did he really think Eduard was going to be allowed a comfortable demise? "Oh, no, Raivis. Eduard will be replacing our prisoner in the basement."

"No. Please, T-T-Toris, don't do that," the Latvian begged, kneeling down by Eduard. He put his arms around his big brother in a defensive stance, looking up at Toris mournfully. "C-c-can he please just…?"

"What? Die a nice death? Oh, Latvia, I wish you'd realize –"

"Stop calling m-m-me Latvia! That name is re-re-reserved for people who actually love me, also known as n-n-not Toris." The boy tried to appear intimidating, his tired blue eyes full of resentment.

"What do you mean I don't love you? I saved you from a certain death by dog, didn't I?" Toris said, silently thinking of where Vytautas could've gone off to.

"You didn't s-s-save me, you th-th-threatened to kill me as well."

"Now, you know that's a…I don't have time to argue with you about this. Let me break this down easily so you can understand," Toris started, unlocking the basement door. He went back over to Raivis, taking off his coat. Just in case Feliks came downstairs, he covered Eduard's face with it. "I'm going to go get Gilbert. You'll wake up Ludwig; I'll take Eduard downstairs, end of story. By the way, what do you want for breakfast?"

"Your death."

"Oh, God, you're just hilarious today. How about…" Toris tapped his chin in mock thought. "Chocolate pancakes?"

Raivis gasped, glaring at the Lithuanian with all the ferocity of a puppy. "You _bastard_."

"And chocolate pancakes it is."

Toris went down the dark staircase, smiling just a bit when he heard Raivis start talking to Eduard. His scared stutter disfigured the words, but it was clear enough that he was trying to convince himself the Estonian was going to be alright. When was he going to realize that was a lost cause? It was hard for Toris to find why the boy cared for Eduard so much. After all, he'd defected from their pact, endangered the public, secretly transmitted things from Russia, and took plenty of pride in lying to Toris' face. Then again, the only thing saving Raivis from the same fate as Eduard was the fact that Toris couldn't stand to hurt a child who once loved and could quite possibly still love him; even he had morals to live by.

"You're going home," Toris called out to the darkness. He waited for a response before he dared to step down from the stairs, just in case the monster had somehow figured out how to get out from his restraints. Finally there was a faint groan and the slight rattle of a chain. Gilbert was still there.

Grabbing a flashlight from the bottom of the stairs, Toris clicked it on and did a quick scan of the room just in case Gilbert was smarter than he thought. But as he expected, the Prussian was propped up in the corner, either half-asleep or half-dead – Toris couldn't decide.

"I am going to let you go now, okay? Ludwig is waiting for you upstairs. Don't try anything foolish," Toris said, walking over to the man. He seemed to shrink away at Toris' touch, as if he was afraid. His red eyes looked up at him uncertainly, like those of a caged beast.

Toris liked it when they were scared.

"Um, Toris, we h-h-have a bit of a problem," Raivis said from the top of the stairs.

"What?" Toris took off Gilbert's gag, pulling the ring of keys from his pocket for the chains around his ankles. The Prussian warily watched Toris, wondering if it was some kind of cruel joke. He didn't dare to move, perhaps out of fear of being beat again. Just to mess with him, Toris lunged like he was going to strike the man. Gilbert instantly flinched, waiting for the cruel hand that never came.

"Toris?" Raivis called again.

"Would you just spit it out already?"

There was a long pause – Raivis was clearly worried about telling him. Finally the boy mustered a quiet, "Ludwig…Ludwig isn't here."

He stopped what he was doing and threw the keys down. Gilbert, seeing that Raivis was clearly about to get murdered, grabbed for Toris' leg. But it was too late, as Toris was just out of reach and stormed back up the stairs. With every step he stomped his foot down harder, ignoring the boy's scared yelp when the two locked eyes. Raivis backed away from the furious Lithuanian, putting his hands up in a sorry attempt at defense. Toris slammed him up against the wall, trying not to start smashing his brother's skull in. Ludwig's absence was probably Eduard and Raivis' last ditch effort to free someone – why didn't he pick up on it earlier? Where was the German by now? Szczecin? Maybe even at the border, making his way to Free Germany.

"Go find him, _now_ ," he growled, pushing down harder on Raivis' shoulders. "Bring him back right now or I will kill you along with Eduard. Better yet, I'll finish Eduard off in front of your eyes and _then_ tear your heart out."

"I c-c-can't go if you're holding me down li-li-like this."

"Oh, really –" Toris started.

"I hate to interrupt you two, but is this your dog?"

Toris dropped the boy, turning around to face Ludwig and Vytautas standing at the bottom of the stairs. The German looked like he'd just stepped out of the shower, his blond hair dripping wet and one of their nice towels draped around his shoulders. Vytautas was wet as well, sitting right by Ludwig's side as if he was the master instead of Toris. Thankfully Ludwig hadn't noticed the body with a coat over it lying door quite yet – but it was only a matter of time.

"Th-th-that's Toris' dog," Raivis answered reluctantly.

"He's very sweet. Well, save for the point where he somehow managed to open a door and climb in the shower with me. Does he have a name?" Ludwig asked, stroking the dog's damp fur.

Toris almost answered him, but then all the pieces clicked together. If it was Ludwig in the shower when he came in, where was Feliks? Even more important than that, was Ludwig singing? The Lithuanian could've sworn he was singing "Take on Me" by _A-ha._

"His name is Vytautas," Toris replied, praying Feliks was still sleeping. What would he think if he came downstairs to this? And he had a meeting in Szczecin today – it would be very bad if he started out the day furious.

Ludwig finally looked up from the dog, glancing over at Eduard. His tiny smile was gone now as he examined the body closely, his eyes stopping at large red stain on the ragged bandages. He reached out for the edge of the coat, stopping when Toris made some sort of noise akin to a wolf's snarl.

"Who is that?" Ludwig asked, backing away from Eduard.

Raivis opened his mouth to say something, but Toris gave him a swift kick in the shin and got between Ludwig and Eduard. "This is no one of interest to you. I promise it is none of your fellow countries. Now, I have to go lock this man up. Your brother will be coming up shortly, and Raivis will take you two back to the barracks."

"Can Vytautas come with me?" Ludwig lost interest in Eduard, going back to the German Shepherd.

"You know what, fine. I'm sure he wouldn't mind. But I would like my dog back by tonight," Toris sighed, turning back towards the cellar. Ludwig's eyes lit up like a giddy child's at Toris' remark, the man scratching Vytautas behind the ears and letting the dog lick his face. He was such a kid at heart.

Before Toris went back downstairs, he shot Raivis a glare that silently told the Latvian to keep quiet. Raivis still seemed a bit startled by Toris' earlier outburst, as he slunk back from Eduard and hid in the shadows. He was shaking again, looking from Ludwig to Eduard to Toris in fear.

Everything was so much easier when they were scared.

* * *

"Aren't you done yet?" Gilbert groaned, glancing over his shoulder at Yao.

Yao threw his hands up in frustration, taking a few steps back from the albino. "Aiya, will you just wait? Or do you want to get infection and die?"

"But Ludwig gets to play with the dog and I don't!"

"Are you serious? That mutt is more important than your health?"

Gilbert crossed his newly bandaged arms, glaring out the door enviously at his little brother. He was stuck in here getting sewn back together while Ludwig and Ivan got to go play with the dog in the snow. Who in their right mind wouldn't be upset?

"I'll hurry, but it's going to take me a while," Yao sighed, coming back over to Gilbert. "He really tore you up."

"Well, shit, he wasn't going to baby me. But it was worth it."

"Same here," Yao said, looking at the wrappings on his blistered hands. Digging trenches night and day to prepare for the somewhat anticipated attack on Szczecin turned his palms into bloody disasters, making every little movement sting like mad. He could barely touch anything without wanting to scream. Even Ivan stopped trying to hold his hand.

Everyone else returned in similar conditions, save for Roderich. Ivan came back limping while wearing that stupid grin of his that Yao couldn't help but smile at and Gilbert was covered in little scratch marks, bruises, a burn, and a deep gash across his back. But perhaps the Austrian suffered the most mental torment of all of them – he hadn't said more than three words since he got back. "What is that?" he'd asked, pointing to the dog. His face displayed all of the detest for him. And he'd been quiet since then.

Roderich terrified the Chinese man more than anyone else. Yao never liked to show it, but he was very concerned for everyone here. Most of the time his worry was centered on Ivan; being Toris' favourite certainly had its consequences. He'd seen the scars, heard the horror stories Ivan whispered to his friend when fear was keeping the Russian awake, and held the man when he had nightmares. But the others were still of his top priority – Yao would give himself up for any of them.

He was a father, after all. It was rooted deep in his blood to care for people. Yao was an expert at fixing injuries and comforting others by this point. With several children of his own, he knew exactly what to say for nearly every situation. Kiku taught him when to be quiet and when to say something, Im Yong Soo taught him how to bandage and stitch up all kinds of wounds – that boy could never quite sit still – and he taught Yao the art of pick-pocketing. Mei showed him what to do with sorrow, as she'd fallen in love thousands of times with regular men and watched them die.

And then there was Ivan. The two met when Ivan was a little country, whereas Yao was already an adult nation. Yao was rather hesitant to stay with that boy for a few days like his boss ordered – he wore strange clothes, had brightly coloured hair and eyes, and wouldn't take his scarf off, even when they went inside. But soon he warmed up to the child, watching him play out in the snow with a big wolf-looking dog and a grin on his face, much like the Russian was doing now. And Ivan took Yao out to a huge field full of sunflowers, something Yao had never seen before.

When the darkness slowly spread over the snowy horizon, Ivan would run up to the man and beg for stories. Not wanting to upset him, Yao told the tales of the great dragons that lived in the sky and the emperors of times past, unintentionally frightening the boy. At night he'd awaken to a tiny nation curled up next to him, saying he was scared. It was almost ironically similar to what happened today.

That tiny worried boy grew into the giant man he was now, still bearing the same smile. Through all the years they'd known each other, Ivan taught Yao the most important lesson of them all.

He taught him how to love.

Ivan showed Yao how to hug others and say sweet things in their ear, how to smile at nearly everything, how to handle even the most frustrating people with a good manner, although Yao hadn't quite mastered that one yet. He'd taught Yao the wonder in dancing, the warmth of an embrace, the calming effect of a gentle voice or a kiss on the forehead. Yao couldn't imagine a life without the adorable Russian. If he didn't have Ivan, Yao would be just as lonely as he was when he first woke up all alone in the world.

"Will you hurry?" Gilbert asked, pulling Yao out of his memories.

"I'm almost done," Yao huffed.

"Can't you be done faster?"

"Can't you be grateful?"

"But look at what they're doing," Gilbert said, motioning towards the door.

Yao glanced outside, making sure the two were still playing with the dog and not getting their throats torn out. But the dog seemed naturally obedient to Ludwig, following all of his commands – including tackling Ivan. The dog jumped at the Russian, knocking him to the ground and licking at his face. Ludwig and Ivan couldn't stop laughing as they play with that stupid mutt, pushing each other into the snow and throwing sticks for the dog to fetch. It made Yao smile to see Ludwig actually laughing, since he was always so stern. Who would've thought an animal could loosen him up?

"There you go," Yao said, handing the Prussian's shirt back. "You can go play with them now. But don't be too rough."

Gilbert didn't even bother to put his shirt back on – he just bolted out the door after that dog. Soon they were all wrestling, Yao cringing at the thought of Gilbert breaking one of his stitches and having to sew him up again. But he didn't have the energy to argue with the man, so he just let it go.

"Are you okay, Roderich?" Yao asked, packing up his stolen medical supplies. The Austrian really worried him sometimes, being so quiet and isolated from everyone else.

"As fine as I'll ever be."

"Don't you want to go do whatever they're doing with that dog?"

Roderich laughed dryly. "Are you joking? Do you even know me? Even if I wasn't in this mindset, I still wouldn't do something like that."

"It was just a question – there's no need to respond so angrily, aru," Yao said, catching a glimpse of Ivan and Gilbert trying to smother one another in the snow. _Oh, God,_ he thought. _Those stitches aren't going to last._

"Thank you, Yao," Roderich said, appearing from his dark cell. He looked very tired, amethyst eyes completely lifeless, while he wore his blanket over his shoulders like a cloak. That man was the reason Yao couldn't sleep at night – he was too worried that the Austrian was plotting to kill himself or trying some ridiculous stunt that would end in his death.

"For doing what?" Yao sighed.

"Saving those two like that. You didn't have to sacrifice yourself for Ludwig, and I know Gilbert's a complete pain in the ass." Roderich looked over at his brothers, giving them the faintest him of a smile. A rather _fatherly_ smile.

"You know, if you don't want Ludwig to get so suspicious, you should stop being such a mother," Yao suggested. "And he's bound to find out at some point."

"I am _not_ a mother!" Roderich's voice grew very quiet. "Can't I just look at my son and smile?"

Yao rolled his eyes, putting the bag full of medical supplies back in his cell. "Previous son, mind you. And all I'm saying is that if you keep this up he's going to find out."

"I've always intended to tell him at some point," Roderich admitted, glancing over at Ludwig. "But it just has to be the right time. Certain things have to fall into place and all of that."

"There really isn't a better time than this. Think about it – it's a controlled environment, Feliciano isn't here to mess with the story, and Basch is gone."

"I was thinking Christmas or somewhere near that date. A sort of present for him," the Austrian said.

Right as Yao was going to tell Roderich that he should talk to Ludwig sooner, Gilbert ran back to Yao with a bleeding arm. Ivan hastily tried to explain that he had no part in it, while Ludwig was nagging the Prussian for playing so rough after just getting his stitches.

This was Yao's life now – stitches, excuses, and nitpicking. And what a life it was.

* * *

Eduard immediately tensed up when he heard the groan of a board under the weight of what he knew was his executioner. Toris knew he was still alive; he was probably coming downstairs to put the final bullet in his head while growling some final remark of hatred. There was nothing Eduard could do now but wait for the end to come. Every second was agonizing as the footsteps grew closer. He could practically hear the mechanical click of the gun being cocked.

"Eduard?" A small voice called, accompanied by a click – not of a pistol, but of a flashlight being turned on. This was definitely not Toris, unless he was playing one of his stupid games.

"I'm here," Eduard said as loud as he could, meaning it was barely audible. His voice seemed to have gone away for some reason, making all of his words disappear.

"Oh, good! I brought you some things to fix you up better, and I found some medicine, although I don't know if it'll work with radium, since it's radioactive and all, and I had to sneak down here all by myself, so Toris doesn't even suspect a thing because I'm just that good," Raivis said in one big rush, running over to Eduard's side.

"Just that good?" Eduard chuckled weakly, looking up at Raivis. "Are you sure you're a stealth master?"

"They have no idea I'm even down here," the Latvian beamed, sitting down next to Eduard. With a tentative hand, he grabbed Eduard's arm.

Without another word to him, Raivis tore off the shirt strips posing as bandages. Now that the wound was visible again and Eduard wasn't trying to stop an insane Lithuanian, he realized how bad it looked. The dog certainly did its job. Thankfully, Raivis wasn't bothered by the fact that the gash was almost down to the bone – it was making Eduard sick just to think about it. But his brother got to work, cleaning the shredded flesh while humming a cute little song.

"Don't worry, I'll have you fixed up in no time," Raivis promised.

"And then what? Did you even think past that?"

Raivis nodded, pulling a needle and thread from his assortment of medical things. "I'm going to get you out of here before Toris has a chance to kill you. I already have a staff car parked outside with all the – I'm sorry, this is going to hurt a bit," he apologized, noticing Eduard cringing as he started stitching up his arm. "Anyway, I'm going to get you all patched up and we're going to go right out of here."

"And how do you plan to get around the guards?"

"Told them you were going on a trip to Szczecin for some stuff."

Eduard kept silent for a moment, wondering how to put what he wanted to say gently. Was there really a way too? "Raivis, I –" He sharply inhaled, flinching as the boy put another stitch in. After a few seconds of trying his best not to cry or shout, he finally managed to talk again. "Listen, I'm basically dead."

"No you're not. Don't think that way. You're setting yourself up for failure. That's what you always tell me when I say I'm too scared to do something."

"I lost too much blood to recover."

"'Tis merely a flesh wound."

"I can feel everything starting to slow down."

"No you can't."

"All I have left to do is die."

Raivis sniffed, looking away from Eduard. "You're going to be fine. Stop talking like that, you're scaring me." His voice was shaky, trembling hands wiping at his eyes.

"Listen, I appreciate the efforts," Eduard sighed, grabbing his little brother's hand. "But I'm –"

"You're not going to die," Raivis said firmly. He finished the row of stitches, knotting off the thread. Snatching up a roll of white bandages, he started wrapping Eduard's arm back up.

"Latvia, I'm on my deathbed."

That struck something in Raivis, because he finally burst into tears. Dropping the bandages, he laid down next to Eduard and put his arms around the Estonian's neck. For a minute he stayed there, crying into Eduard's chest. Soon both of them were in tears.

Both of them knew the duo would soon become a solo.

"I l-l-love you, Estonia," Raivis hiccupped, pressing closer to his brother.

"I love you too." Eduard put his good hand on the back of Raivis head, knowing this could be one of the last times the two shared an embrace. He wanted to stay here forever, holding his beloved little brother close.

"Wh-wh-what do I do without y-y-you? I'm afraid all a-a-alone."

"You'll do just fine. Remember, you have to make it until Christmas. And you'll have to keep Toris in the dark," Eduard ordered, trying to sound like he wasn't absolutely terrified. "Please, you have to make it out of this alive for me. You can do it."

Raivis started sobbing again, tightening his desperate grip on Eduard. "I don't w-w-want to lose you! Can't we j-j-just do something to get the r-r-radium out?"

"There isn't anything to do. The best thing you can do now is stay with me until…"

"Until the end?" Raivis offered, looking into Eduard's eyes with those scared deep blues. He wished the boy wouldn't always look so afraid.

"I think I can hold on for a few more days. I _think_. Can you do me a favour when…when the time comes?" Eduard asked quietly. "Could you please smile?"

"Smile?" Raivis echoed, sounding a bit confused.

"I know, it's strange but –"

A loud crash cut him off midsentence.

"Raivis, you little _imp!"_

The Latvian bolted upright, gathering up the pile of medical supplies and pushing them into the darkened corner as the heavy footsteps started storming down the stairs. Shaking, he picked up the flashlight and quickly finished wrapping up Eduard's arm. He was trying to move as fast as possible, dropping things several times in his hurry. They knew that voice all too well, and the suffering that came with it.

"What the _hell_ are you doing with him? Are you a deserter too?" Toris snarled, stomping over to Raivis. He grabbed the boy's wrist, pulling him away from Eduard. Raivis started screaming at the top of his lungs, trying to get Feliks to come downstairs. But Toris clapped a hand over his mouth, stifling his cries.

"Will you just answer me?" He asked calmly, taking his hand from the boy's mouth.

"I was trying to dress his wound!"

"Did I tell you to do that?"

"Well, n-n-no," Raivis stammered, glancing back at Eduard. "But it's c-c-common courtesy."

Toris shot a dirty glare at Eduard, dragging Raivis further away. "We're going to have a talk about this, _upstairs._ Did I mention that Feliks just left on business? It's just you and me, _Latvia_."

Raivis didn't even try to fight the use of his country name. He mouthed a final "goodbye" and "I love you" as he was being taken away, reaching out for him. Eduard wanted to get up and tackle Toris so badly, and yet he couldn't bring himself to even move.

He felt completely useless when the door was slammed shut.

"What did I say about that?" He could hear Toris roar from upstairs. "I should kill you right now!"

"I was just trying to ease his pain!"

"Ease his _pain_?!"

" _Ow!_ Toris, stop it! That hurts!" Raivis screamed, accompanied by a loud shatter.

"Stop what? This is called punishment, Latvia, not that you would actually know what it is! After all those years I covered for you and took the beatings, you go and betray me like this? All that time in _his_ house, where I gave up every scrap of dignity for you two, only to have all this going on behind my back. I love you and you don't return any of that!" Toris yelled, slamming something else. All Eduard could do was hope Raivis wasn't being tossed about.

"This isn't love!" Raivis cried. Almost instantly he yelped in pain again.

"Yes this is! This is this magical thing called _'one-sided love,'_ " Toris spat, his voice thick with fury. "Where only one person is part of the relationship and the other person doesn't even care. So the only way to get it through their thick skull is through violent actions!"

"That's exactly what Ivan did, isn't it? He did this same exact thing to you!" Raivis shouted back. "And look, he's changed! He's a much better person than you'll ever be!"

"Shut up!"

"No!"

"I said, _shut up_! You have no idea what you're talking about!"

 _"Please stop!"_

There was a loud crack, and the office fell silent again. Deathly silent.

"Raivis?" Toris called out, his words taking on a much different tone. "Hey, Raivis? Don't do this to me. C'mon, I was just…Oh, God, what did I do?"

* * *

Feliks was not used to coming home to total disasters. Normally Toris made sure everything was cleaned up and dinner was finished or at least started on. But when he came inside, he nearly screamed. Someone – or something, Raivis had been known to bring animals into the house on a few occasions – had completely trashed the front room. The coffee table was upturned, several things were smashed on the floor, and Feliks prayed that was just a wine stain on the floor.

Taking careful steps around the broken glass, Feliks looked around downstairs, looking for any signs of what could've happened. But all the other rooms were spotless with that same Toris touch of perfection. The only catastrophe seemed to be in the front room. He went back into that room, wondering where everyone was.

"Feliks, i-i-is that you?" A quiet voice asked, giving the Pole a mini heart attack. He turned around to face not Raivis like he would've expected, but Toris.

All of Feliks' anger was immediately gone when he saw Toris. The Lithuanian's hands and arms were covered in blood; his hair was pulled into a messy ponytail in a vague attempt to keep it out of his eyes and his shirt sleeves were rolled up. Feliks hadn't seen him looking this panicked since the Soviet Union. Wild green eyes, a tremble in his hands, and a stutter – what happened while he was gone?

"Hey, are you okay?" Feliks said gently, going over to Toris. He slowly took one of Toris' hands, turning it over to find shards of glass stuck into his palm. Glancing back up at him, he asked, "Baby, what happened?" Keeping the calm tone in his voice was nearly impossible when he was this mortified.

"I'm so s-s-sorry, I d-d-did all of this," Toris stammered, looking at Feliks ashamedly.

"It's okay. Can you just tell me what happened?"

Toris shook his head, backing away from Feliks. "I-I-I can't."

"You can tell me anything," Feliks smiled, taking a cautious step towards Toris. The Lithuanian grabbed Feliks and pulled him into a hug, giving Feliks quite a scare when he started crying. He just held Toris in shock for a few moments, thinking of what could've upset him so badly he would be reduced to this.

"I hurt s-s-someone," Toris whispered in between sobs. "Someone I-I-I love."

"Hush, you're okay. I'm sure we can fix this," Feliks said, stroking Toris' hair. It was rather strange for him to be at the receiving end of this, and he wasn't really sure how to go about calming him down. Normally Toris was holding Feliks, doing sweet little things like rocking him and reassuring.

"B-b-but _I_ really hurt him. I didn't m-m-mean to."

"Maybe if you tell me who it is, we could work this out."

Toris pulled Feliks closer, crying even harder now. "I can't s-s-say it!"

"Yes you can. I'm not going to get mad," Feliks promised.

"You will." Toris dropped the Pole, scrubbing at his eyes with a bloody hand. "You're g-g-going to get really m-m-mad."

"Would I ever get mad with you?"

Toris mulled this thought over for a moment. He seemed to be seriously thinking about how much he could trust Feliks – even after all these years together, he was still unsure of his best friend's loyalty? After some time of consideration, he said in a quiet voice, "Come with me."

Feliks tried not to seem too confused, letting the Lithuanian lead the way. He took Feliks to Raivis' bedroom, motioning for him to open the door. Curious about what atrocity laid waiting for them; Feliks quickly opened it and stepped inside.

"What?" Feliks was secretly a little disappointed that the grand finale was just Raivis lying in bed. He was hoping for a bit more excitement, maybe an assassin holding the boy at gunpoint or something like that. But it was probably for the best that nothing horrible had happened. "What's wrong with him?"

"Hey, Feliks. Look at my hand. Ain't it cool?" Raivis said, his words slurring together. He held up his left hand proudly, showing several fingers at angles they weren't supposed to be at.

"What did you do?" Feliks gasped, looking over his shoulder at Toris. He looked away, chewing on his bottom lip.

"He said he gave me a 'cussion or somethin'. But I don't remember it, so I don't really think it happened. Probably just lyin'." Raivis answered. "He's always lyin'."

"You did _what?_ "

"I didn't mean to! I really didn't m-m-mean to do that! It was a c-c-complete accident!" Toris shot back.

"Never mind," Feliks growled, going over to Raivis. "Tell me what happened."

Raivis looked up at him, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. It took him a while to respond – in that time Feliks noticed that his pupils were different sizes. He definitely had a concussion. "I don't really remember. Cause I was helpin' Eddy, and then…uh…it was real dark?" Raivis replied with a stupid grin.

"Okay, we're going to have to do this the hard way. Toris, get your ass in here and tell me what happened," Feliks snarled.

"You s-s-said you weren't going to get mad," Toris said, peeking into the room.

"That was before I knew you did _this!"_

Toris slowly came into the bedroom, refusing to look at Raivis. He stood next to Feliks, facing the wall. "I got a-a-angry and hurt h-h-him."

"Well, God, we've established that, haven't we?!" Feliks gave him a shove, trying not to have a complete outburst. "Start with his hand."

"Punishment," Toris answered simply.

"For what?"

"For h-h-helping the traitor. And I really d-d-didn't intend to do that."

Feliks sighed quietly, realizing he wasn't going to get anywhere like this. "Okay, I want you to tell me the whole story. I promise by my word as a nation I won't get mad. Are we clear?"

"S-s-seriously?" Toris turned around slowly, silently questioning Feliks' word.

"I promise. Now, tell me the whole story."

Toris took a shuddering breath. "He was helping th-th-the enemy. So I t-t-took him back here f-f-for punishment. A-a-and I didn't intend to br-br-break his fingers, but I guess I k-k-kind of lost it. But he was s-s-saying things to get me up-up-upset as well, so it isn't entirely my fault." His voice had completely faded away by now in a vain attempt to hide what he'd done. "I s-s-slammed his head against the wall, and th-th-this happened."

Feliks stood there, trying to register everything Toris had just said. What seemed like an eternity later it all clicked. Soon the Pole was taking deep breaths to try and not come completely unglued. He'd promised on his word as a nation, but this was over the edge.

"S-s-see why I couldn't tell you?" Toris added.

"This has gone too far," Feliks finally said. "You've gone beyond the limits now. I've put up with the drunk, mean, violent Toris for too long. Look what's happened! You could've seriously hurt him, all because he was upsetting you? What would we have done if you broke his neck or something? Like, we can't just take him to the hospital and tell them to fix that!"

"I kn-kn-know."

"No, you really don't! If you really did think about _anything_ for once, this wouldn't happen! For God's sake, Toris, he's your brother!"

"Shoulda seen what he did t' Eduard," Raivis said sleepily.

Feliks grabbed Toris by his shirt, holding him at eye level. " _What did you do to Eduard_?"

"I-I-I…" Toris stammered, clearly trying to think up a lie fast enough.

"He sicked a dog on 'im," Raivis answered for Toris, sounding like he too was going to cry. "An' then used the radium. He's gonna die soon."

"Th-th-that's not exactly true," Toris said.

"I bet it _is!_ That sounds like the kind of sick thing you would do. Because you're an evil person, Toris. A downright demonic, aggressive, revolting person! God, and to think I loved you! But what sort of person does this?" Feliks pointed to Raivis, watching as Toris almost went into hysterics again. He'd never been screamed at like this by Feliks.

"You're sc-sc-scaring me. Please calm down. This is the kind of thing that turns me off," Toris said, pulling Feliks close again. He was trying the passionate approach, something that normally got Feliks. For a minute he didn't struggle, letting Toris run his hands further down his back. Without much of a thought, Feliks started to let him kiss his neck. Then he looked into Toris' eyes, seeing the hint of desperation.

This wasn't real love anymore. He should've realized that the moment Toris made the first move. Toris didn't even care about the Pole – maybe a long time ago a kiss would've really meant something, but he was centered on Natalia now. Feliks still was clinging to that thought that it would dawn on Toris that his best friend kept some interest in him all these years. But he was obviously wrong. No matter how much he liked this devilishly sweet Lithuanian, he wasn't going to let this continue on. He didn't want to keep living in false hope.

"I love you, Polski," Toris whispered in Feliks' ear, tucking a stray strand of blond hair behind it.

"Right. And I'm like, totally into Berwald."

"C'mon now," Toris said seductively. "You know I'm not playing around. I still have some vodka in the fridge, do you –"

"Don't you _dare_ try and sweet talk me," Feliks growled, trying to push away from him.

"Please, calm down. It isn't attractive at –" Toris started, until he was interrupted by a smack to the face. Raivis burst out laughing as the man's face became brightly tinged with crimson; Toris must've forgotten the boy was in the room with them.

"You guys are in _love_ ," Raivis sang, putting his not broken hand to his face. "Toris an' Feliks, sittin' in a tree –"

"Oh, sh-sh-shut up! What would you know about any of this?" Toris snapped, looking away from Feliks to try and hide the blush tinting his face red.

"I know what it looks like 'n two people love each other."

"Do you want your other f-f-fingers broken as well? I will snap a-a-all ten!"

"This is disgusting. I can't even believe you anymore." Feliks pulled himself out of the Lithuanian's hold, going over to Raivis. "Listen, can you walk?"

"No, h-h-he can't," Toris answered, still seeming quiet surprised that Feliks had actually hit him.

With a frustrated sigh, Feliks picked Raivis up bridal style. The boy waved at Toris, sticking out his tongue. "I'm taking him to the hospital. When I get home, that disaster downstairs better be cleaned up and I want you to do something about your hands. And for the love of God, don't try and do something romantic to change my mind. Because I am _so_ over you now."

"I-I-I'm sorry," Toris muttered quietly.

Feliks walked right past him, ignoring his apology. "I'd expect better out of you, Toris."

Toris didn't say anything in reply, looking down at the floor to avoid Feliks' eyes. If he would've glanced up in that moment, he would've caught Feliks mouth the words,

 _"I still love you."_

* * *

 **A/N: And slowly, Raivis works his way to the top of the list as one of my favourites. I have way too much fun writing him. Well, I have way too much fun writing in general...**

 **Sorry, this chapter is a bit shorter than the previous five have been.**

 **Thank you to all of you cool beans who went out and read For Those Below! It really means a lot to me. I like sharing my tragic stories. I promise I will post some happy and crackish ones some day. Trust me. But first we have to finish this!**

 **I would like to thank all of you who follow and favourite this story and For Those Below! I'm sorry, it's going to take me centuries to write in all of your names and do the proper formatting and all that. I'm a lazy noodle, okay? But my sincere appreciation goes out to all of you! And a really big thank you goes out to the dear little regular reviewers,** SoulEleri, Seele Esser Deutsch **, and** Comix and Co **. Oh, and** cracknovelist **, thank you for making me squeal like a fangirl. Actually, all of you do that. I'm a bit emotional.**

 **As a parting note, if any of you are in the Midwest and plan on going to Naka-Kon in March, I'll be there! Only on Saturday, though. I'll give you guys some more details when we get closer.**

 **See you all next chapter!**


	26. Babel

Bandaged fingers gently opened the box, sifting through the hundreds of black and white photographs and letters. Each one struck a fragile part of Toris, but he forced himself to ignore all the other pictures and search for just that one. This was no time to get nostalgic, no matter how much he wanted to stay in his bedroom for hours and look over all of them. He could spend hours in there just looking at photos and reading old letters, but he'd only opened the dusty box for one reason.

After a minute or two of sifting through the contents, Toris figured it would be easier if he could see them all at once. So he dumped the box out on his bed, sorting the pictures and letters out. Surely the photograph was still in here. It had to be. Feliks gave him everything back after Lithuania became an independent nation again. But what if Toris had lost it? Or he could've taken it out some time ago and left it somewhere. Maybe it was at his real home, back in Vilnius?

Thankfully, his fears were put to rest when he saw his nearly unreadable frenzied handwriting. Pulling the photo out from the rest, Toris turned it over to make sure it was the right one. Immediately he was hit with a longing ache in his heart. The black and white scene of 1961 was a bit faded, but the memory was so vivid Toris didn't need the photo. He could almost hear the song now, and smell the beer and wax on the floor. It was one of the rare times Ivan allowed Toris to go out of the house – any time like that was a very strong memory.

But now that he looked at the photo, something had changed. It was the same place and time, but the subjects were all wrong. Two nearly unrecognizable people were holding each other, smiling as they danced together. Even from the picture one could tell that they were close; the way the shorter of the two looked up at the other gave everything away.

They looked so young.

Toris hated it when he got this reminiscent. It made him feel like an old man to look at pictures of himself that were less than a hundred years old – a blink of an eye for a nation. But seeing that young spirit holding Feliks in his arms made him realize how much older he looked now. The man in the photo had bright eyes, a clean shaven face, no little scars, his wrist wasn't numbered, and everything about him looked lively. He'd never hurt someone before, never sent his brother to the hospital, never even thought of raising his voice.

Even Feliks had changed since then. The Pole didn't look like his happiness was forced, he was still smiling, and there wasn't that nervous look in his eye. He was blushing, probably telling Toris something about his dancing. A moment later he would be laughing. When was the last time Feliks had actually laughed like he used to?

Beneath the photo, in the blank white space, that cheery blond had wrote, "My dearest Liet, who cannot dance," in his familiar curly scrawl. Next to that was the name of the town – some Polish place in who-knows-where – and December 30th, 1961. He'd also drawn little hearts and flowers around the edges, his feelings towards Toris made painfully obvious.

Toris turned the picture over, studying the two words on the back closely.

 _Save me._

He could see the terror in the shaky handwriting, the way the last letter cut off a bit too short and the ink was smudged – he must've been about to get caught in the act and frantically hid the photo. With just two words he could feel the desperation of the writer, one of his last cries for help. That Toris of 1961 wrote exactly what the Lithuanian felt right now. It was almost ironic that they were so alike and yet in completely opposite positions.

 _Save me,_ Toris said to himself, putting the photo up on his dresser. _I like that. It's almost like it's begging for itself._

He sifted through the pile once more, making sure there weren't any other heart wrenching or beloved things in the mess. After reading through a few desperate letters and some more photographs of better times with panicked messages on the back, Toris kept just a few and put all the rest back. Instead of returning the box to its rightful place in the closet, he took it out of his room and down to the living room.

"Hey, Vytautas," Toris sighed. Vytautas didn't even glance at him, but kept staring out the window in the direction of the barracks. He'd been like that since the guard brought the dog back several hours ago – as long as there was no one in the house, Toris was going to keep him in for some company. But Vytautas jumped right up on the couch, looking out the window longingly and whining. He wouldn't even acknowledge Toris.

"I ought to accuse you of being a traitor as well," Toris said, giving the dog a pat on the head. "You really like Ludwig, don't you?"

The dog perked up at Ludwig's name, wagging his tail. Toris didn't want to admit it, but Ludwig certainly had an effect on every dog. Vytautas was a notorious killer – twenty-five men lay victim to him – and yet he was acting like a puppy over the German.

"I'll probably let you go back to him tomorrow. You deserve a bit of a break," Toris smiled, going over to the fireplace. The flames were still hungry, licking at his hands for the box. They'd already eaten up so much of his life, and yet they still wanted more.

Without much of a second thought, Toris threw all of his secret messages to Feliks into the fire. All those times he'd risked a beating to write to his friend from behind the curtain of the Soviet Union, sneaking out early in the morning to put his hopeless pleas in the mailbox; the photos, the censored letters Feliks tried to send to Toris, the pages from Toris' diary; everything was eaten up by the flames.

One of the chains holding him completely back fell off. He'd still been so attached to that part of himself, the kind and loving part. Although he couldn't bear to burn some of them, the Lithuanian had thrown away any physical reminders of that time. He wasn't going to even think of those times anymore. From now on his entire focus would be on the Empire and its wellbeing. Nothing was going to stand in his way, not even himself.

Vytautas started whining again, but this time he was looking at Toris and not in the direction of Ludwig. He leapt off the couch and came over to Toris, giving him a gentle nudge. A bit confused, Toris ruffled his fur, wondering what could be wrong this time.

It took the man a moment to realize that he was crying again.

Toris laid down on the couch, trying to make himself stop. He'd somehow convinced himself that he would be okay with doing all of this – but his true feelings always seemed to pop up afterwards. No matter how much he lied, he couldn't believe any of it.

He was falling apart. Everything about him was crumbling, and yet he was trying to keep the rubble together.

Vytautas licked at Toris' face, his dark eyes full of concern. Toris stroked the dog's fur, wishing the tears would just stop. He didn't even feel upset at all – did he lose any control over his emotions? It was almost like he didn't have power over himself anymore, as if his mind was a separate being.

 _"Save me,"_ he whispered. "What a ridiculous idea. I don't need a hero anymore, Vytautas. You know what? I am the hero."

Toris thought that last bit over for some time. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. He protected the people from both the dangerous prisoners and Eduard. Anyone who was a threat to the Empire – dead by Toris' order. Although it was taking a bit of time, he was turning the world into a better place. As a matter of fact, he wasn't getting any of the recognition he _deserved_.

No one seemed to acknowledge the fact he was keeping the people of Poland-Lithuania from being killed – no, they only thought of Toris as a monster. Did they know anything about him? Of his struggles, his failures, the constant pain in his chest from all of the battles? There wasn't a human alive who was discrediting him that knew and felt his pains. All they saw was a murderous man.

But if someone would just lift up that curtain, they could see the real hero.

"I _am_ the hero of this story," Toris said to himself, wiping his eyes with his bandaged hand. "They just haven't realized it yet."

* * *

Gilbert sat upright in bed, writing in his diary by the pale light of a new morning. No one else was awake yet – the only noises he could hear were the scratch of the pen on the paper and the winter winds ripping through the camp. Silence was such a welcomed thing for the Prussian now. Once, a very long seven years ago, he would've gone mad at the thought of it being this quiet. But now he could actually think long and hard about something without any interruptions.

 _"There's this sort of hopelessness that comes from living here so long,"_ he wrote in messy cursive. Over the years his handwriting had really gone downhill – it was like chicken scratch by now. But on the other side, Ludwig couldn't read it at all. _"It really doesn't help when you look around at roll call and can't find any faces that have been here for the whole time you have. I can't even begin to imagine what Ivan's like. While most of us are going on our eighth year at good old Bolesność, Ivan is either on his ninth or tenth. I told him that if it is his tenth year, we should have an anniversary party. He's going to ask Raivis today for the record._

 _"I seem to have gotten sidetracked. So, sometimes you get really, really, really depressed. It's almost like a sort of hunger that eats away at you, trying to wear you down to nothing. That's how I feel this lovely morning; bleak. Optimism is a completely foreign thought for most of us, but I take it upon myself to keep everyone happy. But for some reason, I'm just…what's the word? Miserable?_

 _"Maybe it's the you-know-what making me so gloomy. I've come to call it by Roderichitis. Very fancy sounding, don't you think? Sometimes I really wonder if when I fall asleep I'm not going to wake up. Damn Roderichitis._

 _"Speaking of our resident Austrian, he told me he has plans to tell Luddy everything about HRE. Does he have any idea how catastrophic that would be? And he said it would be on Christmas! Seriously? Don't ruin Christmas for the poor kid! He has no idea what he's doing!_

 _"Oh, who knows? All I know is that I have three things to do every day. Number one; keep everyone happy. Number two; keep Ludwig from being so nosy and asking about HRE. And number three; annoy the hell out of Toris. Speaking of Toris, I didn't see much of him yesterday. And then Feliks left so suddenly…Do you think there was a big fight?_

 _"God, I'm asking myself questions. This must really be the end for me._

 _"Love, Gilbert._

 _"P.S – I am awesome!"_

Gilbert gently closed the book, placing it back on its pile. Years worth of recording was stacked up in Gilbert's corner of the cell, a quiet reminder of how long they'd really been here. Sometimes, when he got really bored, he'd read some of the older entries and laugh to himself. _That poor man has no idea what's about to happen,_ Gilbert would say to himself, smiling as he flipped the page and got a vibrant description of a beating _._ It was like reading a horrible series with no real ending – the torment just kept going on and on and on.

Figuring he had nothing better to do with his time, Gilbert got out of bed and looked over the stack for one to read. As he ran his finger down the spines of countless journals, he realized he'd never read the one all the way on the bottom; the one that had a few entries from before the war. If anything could lift his spirits up, it would definitely be that book.

He opened the diary for the first time in what must've been a long time, amazed at how beautiful his handwriting was. This was not the barely legible squiggles that his writing had become – it was written with a bit of grace and effort, each letter actually distinguishable from the next.

The first page was about a fight with Ludwig over what to watch on TV.

The second told the story of a grocery trip.

The third was centered on Ludwig's relationship with Feliciano.

Gilbert couldn't bring himself to read the fourth one.

Who was this man, writing so cheerfully about his little brother and shopping? This couldn't possibly be Gilbert Beilschmidt. They were someone else's words, someone who clearly wasn't being constantly tortured. Every page talked of things so lightly and happily, not like the entry could be one of their last. Whoever this was writing didn't describe how many stitches he'd gotten, how angry he'd made Toris, how much time was spent talking to Roderich about the inevitable time where they were going to have to tell Ludwig the truth.

What happened to him?

What happened to that stupid albino Prussian who would go unknowingly into anything without any regrets? The man who took every opportunity to make jokes and laugh was long gone by now. Gilbert wanted to be like him again, living without a care in the world. But all he could do to even come close to that time was smile. He couldn't bring himself to laugh at everything anymore – very rarely did the chance for a joke arise. That magic touch of Gilbert's had left, along with the rest of him.

 _Everything has to come to an end. Nothing can last forever._

He put the diary back, making a mental note to never pick it up again. Right as he was about to go back to bed for the few remaining minutes of sleep he could get, a furry beast ran into the cell block, wagging its tail and panting happily. It was that dog Ludwig was playing with yesterday – Toris' dog. The Lithuanian would be livid if he found out the dog had gotten loose and went straight to Ludwig.

"Oh, shit," Gilbert whispered, walking over to the barred wall. He knelt down, glaring at the dog. "Go home," he ordered, trying to shoo it away.

"I brought him here for Ludwig, not you."

Gilbert looked up, startled to find Toris standing over him. The man's hands were bandaged, and he smelled faintly of smoke. He looked rather angry this morning, much more so than usual.

"I see you've gotten over your breakup with Feliks," Gilbert said, standing up so he could be taller than the man.

"I see you're still alive," Toris said with the same hint of sarcasm, pulling the keys from his pocket.

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?"

Toris pinched the bridge of his nose, opening the door just enough that the dog could slip in. Immediately it went over to Ludwig, sitting right down beside the sleeping German with its head cocked. "It should've killed you. Listen, roll call's going to be a bit late today. You can sleep for another hour or so. I was just sick of Vytautas' whining and brought him to Ludwig," he explained, locking the door back up.

"Whatever. I know the real reason – you're still upset about your breakup with Feliks."

"Don't sass me. I really could put you out of your misery right now."

"Ah, but there's the thing!" Gilbert went back to his cot, giving Toris a sweet smile. "You won't kill me with your own hands. Someone or something else always has to do it for you."

"So you've finally figured me out. I'm glad it took you what, almost eight years? Who knows what could've happened if you'd realized it sooner?" Toris whispered, locking the door back up. "But here's the best part – I just did kill someone. And I don't regret it at all, so I think I'll be able to do you in when the time comes."

"Who?" Gilbert racked his mind for possible victims, trying to think of some of the recent deaths.

"Oh, no one too terribly important. All I'm saying is you better watch your back. And keep an eye on Ludwig. I think he knows too much." Toris nodded towards the sleeping German. "I wouldn't be surprised if I did away with him first."

Gilbert put a protective arm over Ludwig and Vytautas started snarling. "Don't even think about hurting him."

"I wouldn't dare. But, I think he'll be rather upset when he finally learns everything you've hidden from him." Toris stepped back outside, giving Gilbert one last glance. "Or maybe it'll be too late."

* * *

 _"Little ally, he's coming."_

 _Ludwig tightened his grip on the pistol, cocking it and curling his finger around the trigger. He glanced over at Ivan – with the gleam of moonlight, he could see the faint outline of the Russian and the huge knife in his hand. Had they not been working together, Ludwig would've easily mistaken Ivan for a murderer. From the lavender eyes sparkling in the pale light to the cruel grin on his face, Ivan looked almost too excited for what was about to take place._

 _From outside his bedroom door, Ludwig could hear gentle footsteps. They came closer and closer, each step making the German's heart beat faster. Finally he couldn't stand watching anymore and closed his eyes. And then the door opened just a sliver. Ludwig opened his eyes again – although he couldn't see anyone, he knew who was there._

 _"Ludwig?" A nearly impossible to hear voice called. If he hadn't overheard the conversation a few nights ago, he wouldn't have been able to recognize it._

 _And he didn't dare to reply._

 _"Ludwig, are you awake? I need to talk to you about something. Don't play any jokes with me."_

 _Once again, he didn't answer. An answer would mean Ivan would get caught. If the person really did have some sort of weapon with them, the Russian would end up with it stuck in his neck. They didn't need two injuries tonight._

 _"This is your last chance, young man."_

 _There was a pause for a few seconds, and then more light footsteps. The door creaked close as the figure came closer to Ludwig's bedside. Immediately Ludwig closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep. Soon the person was right above him – he couldn't see it, but this man's presence was quite powerful. What was taking Ivan so long? He should've grabbed the man and snapped his neck already. Ludwig was ordered not to move unless it was absolutely necessary. But when was it deemed necessary? After the knife was in his chest?_

 _"I'm sorry."_

 _Suddenly Ludwig realized that Ivan must've been in on the plan to kill him. That was the only reason why he hadn't tackled the man yet. He was there to watch him die._

 _Why was it taking so long for Basch to finish him off then? Was he trying to torment Ludwig? If that was the case, it was working perfectly. His heart rate had skyrocket, his breathing sharp in anticipation for the huge amount of pain that was going to follow._

 _Ludwig slowly opened one eye, just in time to see a dagger right above his chest. The tip was hovering over his heart; with one small movement he could be in serious danger._

 _"Put the knife down," Ivan ordered, now behind the man with his giant hunting knife pressed to the intruder's neck. "Ludwig, get your gun out."_

 _Instinctively, Ludwig drew the pistol and aimed it at Roderich with a trembling hand._

 _"Roderich?" Ludwig asked in disbelief. "Where's Basch?"_

 _"He didn't want to help," Roderich answered, dropping his knife. Ivan pressed the giant blade closer to the Austrian's neck, kicking the knife away from him._

 _"Lie. Where is he?" Ivan said, his voice much too calm. "Basch was the one who wanted to start this plan."_

 _"Like I said, he didn't want to do this. I acted on my own accord."_

 _Ivan took his knife from Roderich's neck, going over to the closed door. "Then you won't mind if I open the door, will you?"_

 _"Fine," Roderich sighed. "He's waiting out there with a loaded gun. Basch, don't shoot."_

 _Ivan opened the door, Basch storming right past him with a rifle in hand. Had Ivan not been here to help, that rifle would've finished Ludwig's life. "How did you screw up something as simple as this?" He growled, giving Roderich a shove._

 _"It's not my fault Ivan was here."_

 _"So you ruined the whole thing for us?" Basch turned around to face Ivan and presumably start screaming, but instantly stopping any thoughts of a fight when he saw the giant knife in the man's hand._

 _"Little man, I would not get so angry. You were the one trying to kill an innocent child, no? So I am really the hero here." Ivan examined his hunting knife, looking back down at Basch. "I would hate for there to be real bloodshed."_

 _"Oh, so you want to play the game that way?" Basch grabbed Ivan's scarf, pulling him down to eye level._

 _"Don't think you can treat me this way. I am bigger and stronger than you."_

 _"I'd like to hear you say that when I've torn out your insides."_

 _"Excuse me, but could I have a word alone with Ludwig? Can you two go fight somewhere else?" Roderich asked._

 _Ivan grabbed Roderich's knife from the floor, holding Basch by his wrist. "Ludwig, don't trust this man for a minute. He's still suspicious." And with that he dragged Basch out of the room, closing the door gently._

 _"I'm so sorry. I don't know what got a hold of me. I just wanted…" Roderich trailed off, sitting down at the foot of the bed._

 _"You just wanted to kill me!"_

 _"No! Well, yes, that was part of my intent. But as a father," the Austrian said, holding his head in his hands. "I want what's best for you."_

 _"And brutal murder is what's best?" Ludwig snapped._

 _Roderich sighed quietly. "I don't know anymore. The thought was to end it all in your sleep so you wouldn't have to go to war. I…I just thought that war was much worse than a quiet passing. It's painful," he said, sounding like he was nearly in tears. "And I don't want you to hurt anymore. There are so many things on a battlefield children shouldn't see. Even worse, that Russian man has to be your ally."_

 _"I don't really think Ivan's all that bad."_

 _"He's horrible. A bloodthirsty man always craving some sort of fight, out there with you. I fear he'll turn against you. Or even worse, abandon you and watch your death from afar. There's something different about him, Ludwig. A sort of murderer's twinkle in his eye."_

 _"He really isn't that…barbaric. You just have to get to know him," Ludwig reassured the Austrian. "If you look past the childish cruelty, he's rather loving and generous."_

 _"All I want is for you to stay here. I just want us to stay a family. I want Gilbert back, I want Ivan to go back to his frozen land, I want you to stay where you belong. Is that too much to ask for?" Roderich said, his words racked with sobs._

 _"If it means anything, I don't want to go either."_

 _Roderich looked up at Ludwig, tears tracing down his cheekbones. In the dim lights, he looked like a broken man. Long shadows darkened parts of his face, dull violet eyes looking far away at something Ludwig couldn't see. He knew this look all too well – it was the same mask the Roderich in the present wore. Somewhere underneath all the sorrow and fear, there was a stuck up musician._

 _"I don't want you to die," Roderich whispered. "I love you. I'm just trying to keep you from all that fear and pain – and look, I'm just a madman who wanted to kill his own son and can't keep his empire in one piece anymore."_

 _Ludwig put the pistol down, going over to Roderich. Taking the crying man's hands from his eyes, he put his arms around Roderich's chest and held him close._

 _"Everyone makes mistakes. And you didn't kill me, right?"_

 _Roderich looked down at Ludwig, a faint hint of a smile on his face. "God, it all seems rather ridiculous now. Almost like it's all a bad nightmare."_

 _"Oh, it is," Ludwig said to himself. "You have no idea."_

 _"I am so sorry. You have one final day at the house, and I ruined it," Roderich continued on, acting like he hadn't heard what Ludwig just said._

 _"It already was ruined."_

 _"I suppose you're right." Roderich held Ludwig closer, stroking the boy's blond hair. "I'll always love you. Please, remember that when you're out there with that brute. And if you do make it out alive, you can always come back here. I won't ever stop loving you, no matter what happens."_

* * *

"I hate you, Ludwig," Roderich groaned, looking away from the German.

"What did I do this time?"

"You've brought that _thing_ along with you again." Roderich pointed to Vytautas accusingly. "Make it go home."

"He has a name – Vytautas. And he loves me," Ludwig said, scratching the dog behind its ears.

"Love or no love, he needs to go home."

"I don't see what's so wrong with the dog," Ivan added, motioning towards Vytautas. "He's much better company than you are."

Roderich rolled his eyes and sighed overdramatically. "Don't you see that it's a plot to get one of us killed? Guard dogs are trained to kill. And if we just let one wander about with us, its real instincts are bound to switch on at some point. I hope it tears out your throat first," he said, glaring at Ludwig.

"Vytautas wouldn't do that. Look, he even knows a few tricks. Roll over," Ludwig ordered, and the dog immediately rolled onto his back.

"Can't all dogs do that one?" Ivan asked. "Do something impressive."

"This is the best one." Ludwig made an L with his thumb and index finger, making a pretend gun. Vytautas dropped to the floor, playing dead.

"Oh, good, he knows how to fake out the enemy," Roderich snapped. "So he'll pretend to be dead and then murder you. Marvelous, simply marvelous. I can't wait until one of us wakes up and thinks he's just an innocent little puppy and then gets our heart eaten by a rabid dog from hell."

"He's too sweet to do something like that," Ludwig said, tearing off a piece of his bread he'd saved from dinner and holding it out for the dog.

"What are you doing?" Gilbert asked rather angrily, grabbing for Ludwig's hand. "That mutt probably gets more food than all of us do combined!"

Ludwig smiled as Vytautas gently took the bread from his hand, flashing him a look of gratitude. "He was with me all day yesterday and today, so he hasn't had anything to eat. I'd feel terrible if he was hungry too. And I don't need it all."

"You realize this is a bloodthirsty hellhound you're talking about, right?" Yao said. "One who kills men for fun?"

"But he's still a dog that needs to eat," Ludwig snapped defensively.

Gilbert sighed, holding his head. "Please, just don't starve to death for the dog."

"I'll give you my share so I can starve and the dog can be fed," Roderich offered.

"Speaking of starvation and dying," Gilbert said. "I need to talk to you about something Roderich. _Alone."_ He shot a dirty look at Ludwig at the last bit – it had to be something about Holy Rome.

Reluctantly, Roderich got up and left the cell block with Gilbert. The Prussian shut the door behind them, making sure Ludwig wasn't going to hear.

Ludwig didn't even make any attempts to listen in. He figured Elizabeta was going to tell him everything on Christmas, which was only a little over two weeks away. All of a sudden he was excited for Christmas again – something that hadn't happened in a very long seven years. No longer was it going to be yet another day here, but it was going to be the day where Ludwig was finally going to know everything.

"Hey, Ludwig, I think you better come hear this," Ivan whispered. Ludwig hadn't even noticed the Russian was listening to their conversation, as he was too wrapped up in the glittering thought of putting together all the pieces.

Ludwig came over to the door and only caught two words of Gilbert's, "It's over."

He backed away after that, refusing to hear whatever his brother had to say. "It's over" could mean thousands of things, and he didn't want to know a single one of them. His imagination was running rampant – was Gilbert dying, planning on escaping, or maybe both? Were the two older nations going to try and kill off Ludwig's Holy Rome theories once and for all? Or perhaps they were talking about the war. Maybe Gilbert heard something about the end of it all.

"He's saying that there's something wrong," Ivan said, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. "Something's really wrong."

"It's probably just my brother being my brother," Ludwig replied, going back over to Vytautas. Sometimes he wanted to know everything, and sometimes he wanted to know nothing. Tonight was one of those times he wanted to know nothing.

"He just said something about a condition called _Roderichitis_. Is that some joke of yours?"

"No," Ludwig said, stroking Vytautas lightly. "I've never heard of it before."

"Oh, now Roderich is really mad. He's using words that I didn't even know he knew," Ivan laughed, motioning for Yao to join him. Soon the two were howling at Roderich's choice of words, repeating them to each other.

"What do you think you're doing?" Gilbert snarled, throwing the door open. Yao and Ivan tried to stop laughing, but they couldn't. Roderich kept going with his creative choice of expletives, only fueling the fire for the two's hysterics.

"Did you start this?" Gilbert asked, coming over to Ludwig. "More importantly, did you hear any of our conversation?"

"No, but Ivan did," Ludwig smiled.

"Ivan, I swear to _God!_ "

"Sorry, but I wanted to know what was so important!" Ivan managed in between fits of laughter. "And look how mad Roderich got!"

"Drop it," Roderich hissed, going back to his cell.

"I'm not Vytautas!" Ivan called after him. "You can't command me to do anything."

"Oh, why don't you go make out with Yao somewhere and leave me alone?" Roderich asked mockingly.

"Shut up." Ivan had almost instantly stopped laughing. "That's not even funny to joke about."

"You know what else isn't funny? What Gilbert just told me. So stop laughing and go to bed already."

"What did he tell you?" Yao asked.

Roderich didn't answer for a moment. "He told me there was something very wrong with someone in this room, and they were likely to not make it. Something about knowing far too much."

* * *

"If you need anything, come get me, okay? Don't bother with Toris," Feliks said softly, running his fingers through Raivis' hair.

"I will," Raivis replied.

"I have to go to work now, but I'll be checking in every like, two hours or so." Feliks gave Raivis a worried look, kissing him on the forehead. "Please don't try to do something stupid."

"I promise I won't."

"And try not to fall asleep in case I can't make it back in time," Feliks sighed, getting up from his spot next to Raivis. Right as he left, he glanced back at the boy anxiously. For not being that close at all to Raivis, he was rather concerned about his wellbeing.

"I'll be okay," Raivis said, giving Feliks a weak smile.

"I know. It's just…" his voice faded away. Without another word, he let the door close with a gentle click.

For a moment Raivis forgot all about his plan and stared up at his bedroom ceiling. Everything hurt, his vision was still a bit off, and his left hand had three fingers bandaged together to keep them straight as they healed. He was actually glad that he couldn't remember the whole ordeal. Eduard's scene was enough nightmare material for Raivis – he didn't need another horrifying memory.

 _Right, Eduard. Have to save Eduard._

Raivis got out of bed, just now realizing how unsteady he was on his feet. Before, Feliks had either carried him or helped him along. But with a few near falls, he made it over to the door and pressed his ear to it. He couldn't hear anything, so Feliks must've gone downstairs.

Slowly, he opened the door. Thankfully there wasn't a frustrated Pole standing there waiting; or even worse, Toris. Praying neither of the two were going to suddenly appear from the shadows, Raivis took a few wobbly steps out into the hallway. With all the grace of a child just learning to ice skate, Raivis stumbled over to the stair railing.

But before he could go downstairs, he caught a glimpse of a shadow moving across a long rectangle of yellow light from the kitchen. If he went to the basement now, Feliks would have a clear view of him.

"…There for so long?" Toris asked, his voice immediately making Raivis tense up. He didn't think the demon was going to be there as well.

"Well, there happens to be a lot of wounded soldiers," Feliks snapped.

"So, tell me what happened."

Feliks groaned loudly. "We get there, wait for a few centuries, doctor comes to see Raivis, says he has concussion and is probably going to need surgery, we wait for another decade or two, and finally they come and fix up his fingers and send us back. Evidently, he didn't need surgery. Oh, and Raivis threw up in the car. So, fun times for all of us."

"Sounds like a typical day," Toris laughed halfheartedly.

"Do you know how much surgery would've cost us? The doctor said we were this close to having an operation done," Feliks growled in a low voice, "He said you nearly cracked his skull open. There's a tiny crack now. They wouldn't believe me that it was an accident. If I hadn't, like, told them who I was, I think they would've called the police and arrested me for child abuse."

Raivis knew his concussion was bad, but not to that level. He'd been mostly out of it the whole time at the hospital – when he was responsive enough to answer questions, it was all a blurry mess. In the back of his aching mind he vaguely remembered something about the whole police bit, as Feliks was screaming at the doctors about how he was Poland and they should all respect him.

"Like I said earlier, I didn't mean to do any of that," Toris said in reply. "I was just trying to teach him a lesson and got a bit too into it."

"You think?" Feliks asked, slamming a door to something.

"God, don't you think I feel horrible? All you're doing is making this worse and worse."

"I hope you feel like a horrible person. And I hope I'm making it worse. Now, would you like to tell me what happened to Eduard?" Feliks asked.

There was a long pause, in which Raivis was considering going downstairs and telling Feliks the whole story. But Toris beat him to it. "He was transmitting secret things to the Russians. I found a radio in his room, along with several codebooks. And not only that, he's the one that's been helping all those people escape. Raivis and him go out to the forest every Friday, pretend to knock off about twenty of them, and then send them off to Free Germany."

"…What?"

"You think I would lie to you about something as serious as this? They've let as many as two thousand go over the years! Two thousand people!" The Lithuanian enunciated every word, stomping his foot down.

"I…I can't handle this right now. I'm sorry, I don't….what? You cannot be serious right now," Feliks said in disbelief. "Listen, I'm going to go…I don't really know what I'm going to do. I just need some time to think about all of this."

"You can think all you want, but it won't change the truth."

"I know. I'm…just going to go walk around for a bit."

Feliks appeared from the kitchen, going straight out the door without even noticing Raivis standing there watching him. After waiting a few minutes in case he decided to come back, Raivis carefully went downstairs. Each step was a nightmare with his bad footing, but when he got down to the first floor it was even more horrifying. Toris was right in the kitchen with a perfect view of Raivis. He was sitting at the table, lost in one of Eduard's books.

If he were to look up, Raivis would undoubtedly end up with more than a little hairline fracture in his skull.

Never, not once in his life, had someone described the Latvian as stealthy. He was too loud, too uncoordinated, and too obvious. But somehow he managed to get to the cellar door without Toris glancing up. Cautiously, he opened it and stepped into the darkness. Checking that Toris was still unaware, Raivis closed the door behind him and was completely overcame by the pitch black.

"Eduard?" He called out, his voice barely above a whisper. Although there wasn't any reply, Raivis figured that the Estonian couldn't hear him. Grabbing one of the flashlights lined along a shelf on the wall, he held the light in his bad and used his good one to hold onto the railing for life.

"Hey, Eduard?" He said again, this time much louder. As he reached the bottom step, he swept the light along the wall to make sure his brother was still there. Sure enough, the Estonian lay against the wall, asleep.

 _Or perhaps…_

Raivis went over to Eduard's side, falling down next to him. "Hey, Eduard! You got to wake up!"

One sea green eye opened halfway, followed by the other.

"Oh, thank God!" Raivis cheered, pulling Eduard into a hug. "I thought you were –"

"Smile."

Raivis dropped his big brother, momentarily believing he was hearing things. But there was no mistaking it, as Eduard mouthed the word again.

"No," Raivis whispered. "I can't."

"You can. Do it for me." Eduard's voice was a hoarse rasp by now, but his words couldn't have been clearer. "Remember, you need to follow Ringleader's orders…and you have to make it to Christmas. I love you, Latvia."

Taking Eduard's hand in his, Raivis smiled through his tears. He kept that stupid grin Eduard always used to say he wanted to wipe off the boy's face, right until the sea green eyes closed again.

* * *

 **A/N: Guess who got in the top ten at her shooting match today? One polski-doodle did! And we won our first Scholar's Bowl match on Monday. Our little hick town of a school won against a few private schools. So we're really not as stupid as we seem!  
**

 **The title of this chapter is based on the Biblical tower of the same name and the Mumford and Sons song. According to the story, the tower of Babel crumbled *cough* like Toris *cough*.**

 **So, I'm sorry if this chapter feels a bit rushed. I'm definitely crunched for time now. I'm really trying to have a quality chapter every Saturday, but, oh, God, is it hard. I promise to keep it up on every Saturday though. I couldn't ever let any of you cinnamon rolls down.**

 **I hope all of you guys have a happy Valentine's Day! I didn't get anything from anyone at my school, but I did get something much better than any chocolate or roses. I wrote to Robert Clary (the man who plays LeBeau on Hogan's Heroes, for those of you who don't know or don't care) and he wrote back to me! I didn't even need someone to love me or get me chocolate like every other person at my school did.**

 **Thank you to MoonlightScarlett, cj0410 (you aren't smooth at all) and my faithful little dears cracknovelist, SoulEleri, Seele Esser Deutsch, and Comix and Co! And more thanks to the people who read For Those Below! You all make my day! I know I'm so redundant by now...**

 **Have the best Valentine's Day ever! You go ask your crush out, I believe in you!**

 **See you all next chapter!**


	27. Two Sides to Every Man

Raivis would never be as smart with technology as Eduard was, but it didn't take a genius to use scissors.

The boy stifled another yawn, leaning against the wall. Three in the morning was much too early for him to be awake, and he'd already been working for an hour. What he wouldn't give to go back up to his room and curl up under the soft blankets. Pushing his thoughts of sleep away, Raivis grabbed a handful of the cords and cut them. He didn't know exactly what it was doing, but he figured it would shut down the radio. The television, security cameras, phones, and all computers had already been mutilated – Raivis picked something that looked important to the machine and tore it out. For disposal of the evidence he simply threw the parts in a bag and planned to take it into the camp to hide them. It wasn't the neatest job, but it would have to do.

Now, the only problem left was keeping Toris and Feliks away from the rest of the world. Toris would probably be easy enough; he wasn't social to begin with, but Feliks was a whole new story. The Pole talked to literally everyone on a daily basis. Raivis could clip cords and pull out processors, but he couldn't keep Feliks quiet.

 _Eduard would know what to do,_ Raivis told himself. _He always had ideas. If he was still here, he'd come up with some brilliant plan to get Feliks to stay inside. And he would've done a perfect job of disabling everything._

 _But he's not here anymore. I have to do this myself._

Raivis stood up, putting the radio back just as it was. With a quiet sigh, he listed off everything he'd ruined on his fingers. There was only one more thing to destroy now, the most important of the lot. Unlike everything else, he wasn't going to have any fun tearing this one apart.

Yawning yet again, Raivis put the scissors back in the kitchen and slowly trudged upstairs. The stairs weren't as physically demanding as they were two weeks ago, but that didn't mean he was completely healed. His head still hurt when he tried to do certain things like reading or thinking hard about something, and his fingers were a bit crooked. Toris had definitely left a lasting mark – Raivis should've gone back to normal in the first week, but it was taking more than two.

"Hey, Toris?" Raivis whispered, making sure his voice was just loud enough that it wouldn't wake the man up. He opened the bedroom door just a bit, checking that Toris wasn't trying to trick him. Although the Lithuanian wasn't going to suddenly wake up at three in the morning, Raivis could never be too careful. Thankfully he could see the silhouette of Toris and the steady rise and fall of his chest. If he was really trying to fake him out, his breathing would be faster than normal – he panicked far too easily.

Seeing that the Lithuanian was really asleep, Raivis shut the door and moved onto Feliks' room before he started anything. Feliks could be trusted a bit more than Toris, however, Raivis was not willing to risk another hospital trip for this. The Pole's loyalties were still somewhere between Toris and an average man for Raivis. He didn't really know where Feliks lay in terms of trust.

"Hey, Feliks, are you still awake?" Raivis asked, knocking ever so slightly on the door.

He nearly passed out when Feliks answered with a, "What do you need?"

This wasn't something Raivis was prepared for. According to his perfect plan that he'd spent hours mapping out, everyone would still be sleeping and he'd have hours to finish his sabotage. But now there was a tiny glitch, and he had no idea what to do. He didn't have any possible responses in mind, and Feliks knew he was awake. What was he supposed to say now, what was he going to do if Feliks really wasn't as trustworthy as he thought, what was –

"Raivis? Are you okay?" Feliks opened the door, looking down at the boy. The Pole looked exhausted, yet he managed a smile for Raivis.

"I…I can't sleep," Raivis stammered, praying that was believable.

"What's bothering you?"

Once again, the Latvian had no clue what to say and threw some random thought out there. "I was thinking about things." _Oh, that's perfect,_ Raivis cursed at himself. _He'll_ never _see through that. God, do you always have to be such an idiot?_

"That's not exactly what I mean," Feliks said, motioning for Raivis to come in. "What sort of things were you thinking about?"

 _Or maybe Feliks is the idiot?_

Raivis followed the Pole into his room, sitting down on the bed. He couldn't tell if Feliks was just toying with him or sincerely concerned. "Well…you know…it's really hard to say."

"I promise you can tell me anything. Believe me – I'm not loyal to Toris anymore," Feliks sighed, shutting the door. He came over and sat down next to Raivis, twirling a strand of blond hair. "I don't really know where my loyalties lie anymore, but I promise that I won't tell anyone what you say."

"I'm really worried about Toris," Raivis lied, looking down at his bare feet. He wouldn't even blink if his big brother got captured and tortured by the Russians, but he had to say something.

"And you think I'm not?" Feliks laughed, falling back on the bed.

"I know you are. But I was just thinking about how he used to be. When this all started we were a family," Raivis started, lying down next to Feliks. "Kind of a _'we're all in this together'_ thing. And now look at us. You don't love Toris anymore, he sent me to the hospital, and…" He couldn't bear to finish his sentence, so he let his voice fade into the silence.

"I know, you don't need to say it," Feliks said. "I think we've figured out who the problem is here."

Raivis glanced over at Feliks, studying the man closely. He used to be rather wary of him, being so close to Toris and all, but over the past week he'd found himself growing a bit attached. All he wanted was someone to take care of him – with Eduard gone Feliks was the next best option. "I just want my brother back."

"And I want my baby back. But we can't all have what we want, can we? If Toris wants to be whatever he is right now, that's fine by me. I'm not going to stand in his way anymore."

"I wasn't talking about Toris," Raivis said quietly.

"Oh." Feliks lost the joking tone almost instantly. "I'm sorry. I really don't know what to tell you about that."

"You don't need to say anything."

Feliks pulled Raivis into a hug, giving the boy another heart attack. He wasn't used to being touched by the Pole at all – something like an embrace was completely unfamiliar. "I need to say something," Feliks whispered. "You can't struggle through this all alone."

"Really, Feliks, I'm fine." Raivis smiled, but deep down he knew he was lying to himself.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm absolutely positive."

Feliks started grinning again, ruffling Raivis' hair. "God, you're just like how Toris used to be. You're lying right to my face, aren't you? But you don't want me to be worried."

"I'm not lying," Raivis said, pushing Feliks' hand away. "I'm just not that bothered."

"Whatever you say. But I know when someone's trying to keep me from being worried. It doesn't matter what you try – I'm going to worry about everything. Listen, I worry about curtains."

"Curtains?" Raivis laughed. "What's there to be worried about with those?"

"I always think there's some sort of monster behind them. Especially when I'm all alone."

"Well, there's nothing to be worried about with me."

"Oh, yes there is," Feliks sighed, brushing Raivis' honey curls from his eyes. "There's something so much more. Honest to God, you scare me the most out of all of you. Being so quiet and submissive, it's not right. I've seen you when you're, like, normal once or twice. This isn't normal. Raivis Galante is supposed to be this happy little nation, with a smile and no bandages on his fingers. And Raivis doesn't cry every day or watch horrible things his big brother does. You're not supposed to talk to me about your problems at three in the morning, and yet here we are."

"Here we are," Raivis repeated – only now was it dawning on him how strange this all was.

"Who would've thought I'd ever like you so much? I always thought you were just a little pushover that followed Toris' every command," Feliks admitted. "And thanks to a war, I've actually grown to like you. You are still a bit of a pushover, though. No offense."

"None taken. This war screwed everything up, didn't it?"

"It ruined the world. I didn't think there was going to be so much history repeats. It's almost like the officials have been sticking their noses into too many history textbooks and thinking they can do things like that. Next thing you know we'll be…" Feliks paused, flashing Raivis another grin. "Sorry, we shouldn't be talking about things like this so late. You need to get back to bed."

"Right! Good night, Feliks!" Raivis said almost too enthusiastically – he'd forgotten all about the last part of his mission.

"Good night," Feliks replied a bit numbly. "See you tomorrow?"

"Oh, yes!" Raivis got up from the bed, going over to the door as quickly as he could without running. Once he'd shut the door, he walked right into the forbidden room, the name Toris had given Eduard's bedroom.

Without looking around too much and getting himself hopelessly depressed, Raivis locked the door behind him and went straight to Eduard's desk. He pulled out the largest drawer, tossing papers out of his way. Half expecting the emergency radio to be gone, Raivis lifted up the false bottom and was met with the shiny little box.

Carefully he took it out of its nest, holding the radio like it was made of glass. Part of him didn't want to smash it. It was the last thing Eduard and Raivis had worked on, piecing the countless parts together and screaming in frustration when nothing would work. A few times they considered giving up and smashing the radio for fun. Still, they struggled through and finally had a cute little wireless. The poor thing never even got a chance to be used.

Something fell off of the bottom of the radio, fluttering to the floor. Keeping the box cradled in his arms, Raivis grabbed the scrap of paper from the floor. Eduard had scrawled some strange sort of code on the note, a few numbers that he couldn't connect to anything. Raivis flipped the paper over, completely confused. The words "For the Stallion of the Circus" were scrawled across the back.

Perhaps the radio was going to get one use.

Grabbing the headset from the desk's other drawer, Raivis plugged in all the little cords and set the dial to the numbers. It was extremely dangerous to be broadcasting without any signal changes, but he had to get a message through to Ringleader.

"Ringleader, this is Stallion. Come in, Ringleader," Raivis said, trying to sound as official as Eduard always did.

"Hello, Stallion, this is Acrobat, I read you loud and clear. What can I do for you?" The gentle voice asked. Raivis was actually grateful it was Acrobat and not Ringleader or Basch. Acrobat could probably handle things a bit calmer than either of the two.

"It's Lion Tamer. He's…he's crossed the Seine."

"I'm… I'm sorry, can you repeat that?"

"Lion Tamer has crossed the Seine," Raivis said slowly, using the codeword for death.

Acrobat didn't answer for a few moments. "…Oh, God, I'm sorry. Mama Bear and Papa Bear didn't…?"

"Mama Bear sent him across. They still know nothing."

"I'm so sorry. Listen, we're coming as fast as we can. Please, if you can just handle keeping them clueless for a bit, that would be wonderful. But if you can't, I completely understand. We can work around something like that."

"No, it's fine, I can do it. But all communications with us will be shut down. After this I'm destroying the transmitter," Raivis explained. "I'll try my best."

"Whatever effort you can give us will help greatly. I'm really trying to get them to move faster, but so far Christmas is still the set date. May God's love be with you, Stallion," Acrobat said, his voice calming any worries Raivis had.

"I guess this is goodbye for a while, then?" He asked.

"I guess so. Over and out."

Acrobat almost sounded a bit sad to say goodbye to Raivis.

* * *

"Excuse me, sir, but I need to tell you something urgently."

Volkov didn't even look up when Sevastian came into the room, but rather muttered curses as he pulled out his wallet and handed Basch a fistful of money. The Swiss took it from his clenched fist, giving the man a smug grin as he put it next to his growing pile of rubles. Giving Basch a rather rude gesture involving the middle finger, Volkov pinched the bridge of his nose and turned to face Sevastian.

"Did you say something, Sevastian?" Volkov asked.

"Sir, I regret to inform you that Lion Tamer is dead," Sevastian said quietly, sitting down at the table that was supposed to be used for strategizing but had been overcome by Volkov's unhealthy gambling habit. Cards and dice were scattered across the maps and tiny figures representing the divisions, and right over the Baltic Sea was Basch's stack of winnings.

"Well, shit. Can we work around this?"

"Stallion says he's doing all he can, but I don't know how much that is," Sevastian answered, wondering why Volkov kept playing with Basch. The Swiss was nearly impossible to beat at any game he tried, and all Volkov was doing was giving his money away. It would be much easier to just hand over his wallet to Basch.

"Surely he can handle it for five days, can't he?" Volkov shot a glare at Basch, who grabbed the stack of cash and waved it in the man's face.

"I think so, sir."

Volkov pushed Basch's hand out of his face, looking away from him. "You know," he said, crossing his arms. "You don't have to keep calling me 'sir.'"

"But you're my superior officer, sir," Sevastian replied sheepishly. He hated how carefree Volkov was with his name – he should be referring to Sevastian as Sokoloff or Colonel, not by his first name. When there were officials around Volkov straightened up, but he was rather loose with everyone.

"I get that you're straight-laced and everything, but if I'm on a first name basis, you should be too."

"Sir, I don't know your first name."

Volkov's face immediately went red. His hand went to the back of his neck and he looked down at his shoes shamefully. "Maybe you should call me by my last name. Volkov will do just fine."

"What, you got a girl's name?" Basch asked, counting his winnings.

"No," Volkov snarled. "I just don't like it."

"I bet you it's a girl's name and you're scared to admit it. Isn't it, _Anya_?" Basch smiled mockingly, leaning back in his chair. He loved to antagonize Volkov to the point of the Russian yelling at the top of his lungs. Sevastian couldn't understand the appeal in making the lieutenant general furious, but there obviously was something, because Basch made him mad nearly every day.

"My name is not Anya."

"Sir, I don't think your first name should be something to be ashamed of," Sevastian said gently, trying to avoid another disaster. "I'll call you whatever you want me to call you."

"Call him Natalya!" Basch added.

"Shut up!"

"Then say it," Basch beamed. "Say your real name!"

"Ziven," Volkov whispered so quietly Sevastian could easily have mistaken it for the howling winds outside.

"Is that your first name?" Sevastian asked, confused as to what could be so bad about that. "It fits quite nicely, sir. Ziven means alive and vigorous."

Volkov looked up at him, seeming rather ashamed of his name. "Don't you know the origins?" He said in a gloomy voice, nothing like his regular spirited tone.

"If I recall correctly, it's a Polish name, right?"

Basch burst out laughing at this point, nearly falling out of his chair. "You're ashamed of that? God, I thought you couldn't get any dumber, and you're scared of a Polish name?"

"It's not funny!" Volkov slammed his hands down on the table, glaring daggers at the blond. "Poland is the enemy right now! All through military academy and even now people think I'm a Pole. They say rude things to me, they laugh behind my back, they call me a spy! I've been a Russian my whole damn life, and people still think I'm a double agent! All because my mother was Polish!"

"Oh, big deal. At least you're tall," Basch snapped, standing up to be face-to-face with Volkov.

"That's not the same thing as being accused of being the enemy."

"But you've never had to sit through a thousand jokes made about your height. You were never shoved into a chest and locked in there by your jackass brothers. No one laughs at you for how short you are. And you definitely have not been mistaken for a child when you are _two thousand and some odd years old!"_

"Can we all just agree that we have our struggles and move on?" Sevastian suggested.

"Not until this bastard realizes that a name is nothing to get upset about! At least you can change that, _Ziven!"_ Basch spat, grabbing Volkov by his shirt.

"My mother would never let me! And so what if someone made fun of you for your height? You were still respected by your countrymen! Your superior officer wasn't questioning you every five seconds about your loyalty!" Volkov tore Basch's hands off of him, storming out of the building they'd currently set up as the strategy room. "You don't understand what it's like to be given a train ticket to Poland and told to go back to 'your home.' By your own damn ' _friends!_ '" He shot a look back at Basch, disappearing into the snowstorm.

"He has no idea. No idea at all what it's like," Basch muttered, grabbing his coat. He stuffed the wad of money into his coat pocket, marching right outside.

Sevastian slumped over the table, completely exhausted. Every single day was like this now. As they drew closer and closer to Szczecin, tensions rose higher. Just yesterday they'd liberated Poznan, placing thousands of people marked with a distinctive TT on their neck in the Russians' care. Liberation wasn't part of their plan, but Volkov couldn't stand to just pass them by. This morning Volkov and some other important person Sevastian didn't want to know about got into a loud argument over what they should do with the test subjects. Volkov was insistent on sending them all back to Moscow for proper treatment – the other man said that the subjects near death should just be put out of their misery. They screamed back and forth for hours, finally coming to the conclusion to send the people to Kaliningrad.

He looked over the battle map, flinching a little bit when he saw the blue circles were trying to seal the hole in the line. If the Empire's forces managed to crush the Russians, Volkov and Sevastian's entire mission would be done for. They were depending on the men at the tear in the front. If they lost the battle in the next five days, Sevastian might as well lock himself up in Bolesność.

With a tired sigh, Sevastian got up and pulled his coat back on. Glancing back at the map, he pushed a few of the blue markers away, making a larger hole for the red markers – the Russians. It was a childish move and he'd have to set everything back up again tomorrow, but it felt good to destroy the Empire. If only it was that easy to keep the enemy away.

Sevastian stepped out into the cold winds, pulling his coat closer. As he walked towards the temporary barracks reserved for Volkov, Basch, and himself, he was startled to find his commanding officer pressed against the wall of the building in tears. Volkov caught sight of Sevastian and immediately hid his face, wiping at his eyes.

"Sir?" Sevastian asked, keeping his voice calm despite how scared he was. He always thought Volkov wasn't capable of the emotion of sorrow. "Are you alright?"

"They called me a dirty Pole. A _lyakh_ ," Volkov whispered, glancing over at him like a hurt puppy. "They would take my things and hide them. They tore up my papers. They tried to smother me in my sleep once."

"Think about where all those men are now. Are they lieutenant generals? They're all probably stuck at private," Sevastian said, thinking about how he used to get laughed at for his height and young face. No one would believe him when he said he was married with three children. Everyone in his class thought he was barely eligible to be in the military.

"So what? They're not charging blindly into a death trap."

"It's not a death trap. You're about to lead the boldest assault ever. In just five days you're going to save the representative of your real country. No _lyakh_ could ever do that. And what are they doing? Probably home on leave, about to hear about the newest hero of Russia. You're a Russian, sir." Sevastian cautiously came over to Volkov's side, putting a tentative hand on his shoulder.

"I am a Russian," Volkov echoed, almost sounding a bit puzzled about himself. He glanced down at Sevastian, a tiny smile appearing on his face. Without warning, he pulled the colonel into a tight hug.

"E-e-excuse me, sir?" Sevastian stammered, shocked to be so suddenly embraced.

"God, Sevastian, what would I do without you?"

"I don't know, sir."

* * *

Ivan had never really been fond of a certain Prussian. One of his earliest memories was of an obnoxious little boy by the name of Gilbert hunting him down. He would scream out names at Ivan, make fun of his sisters, use his house for target practice, and went as far as breaking Natalia's arm when she tried to defend her beloved big brother. Gilbert was just a demon child back then – what was Ivan thinking, he still was a monster.

He'd gone through most of his adult life automatically assuming Gilbert meant trouble. When he was required to house Gilbert during the Soviet Union, Ivan kept the man in a room with several locks and no windows. The only side of the strangely pale man Ivan knew was the bratty little child side. He was terrified of that boy of the past, the one who went to great lengths to make Ivan miserable.

But then when Gilbert and his brother showed up at Bolesność, Ivan realized there was another side to the man. A defensive, humorous, almost motherly side. From the way he protected Ludwig like he was the crown jewels to the long talks he would have with everyone about being optimistic, Ivan found himself almost liking the Prussian.

 _Almost._

Ivan liked the cute little quirky things about the Prussian; however, he did not like how enthusiastic he could be. Especially when they were all trying to get to sleep and he was yelling about some meaningless holiday at top volume.

"Guess what guys?" Gilbert said, his cherry eyes gleaming with excitement. "There's five days until Christmas!"

"And you aren't going to make it past tomorrow," Ludwig groaned, pushing his brother away from him.

"Oh, stop that. We need to talk Christmas stuff and this is the best time." Gilbert stuck his tongue out at the German. "Now, what would you all like for Christmas?"

"I want you to become mute," Yao called out. He gave Ivan a mischievous grin, glancing over at the Russian with his bright amber eyes. Ivan smiled back, snuggling closer to Yao. The two had become much closer during this winter – both physically and emotionally.

"Ha ha, very funny. You're not getting anything from me. Now, tell me or forever hold your peace."

"How about someone explains to me who Holy Rome is without throwing a fit and screaming?" Ludwig asked hopefully.

"How about no?" Gilbert shot back. "Ask for something reasonable. And Roderich, I swear to God if you tell me you want to die, I will throw a fit."

"I would like for my inevitable demise. There, I didn't exactly say 'death,' now did I?"

Gilbert groaned, holding his head. "So you people don't want to do _anything_ at all for Christmas? For God's sake, it's _Christmas!"_

"Why are you suddenly so concerned about Christmas?" Yao asked. "It's just going to be another day with the devil, otherwise known as Toris."

"That's the thing – we haven't ever celebrated Christmas. Seven years and no one has even mentioned it before. So I thought I'd do something nice for all of you, but I can see that my ideas aren't wanted," Gilbert huffed.

"It is a very nice thought, but where are you going to find presents in a place like this?" Ivan was rather concerned about Gilbert's reason for Christmas. If it lined up with the conversation the Prussian had with Roderich a few weeks ago, it wasn't just because they hadn't ever celebrated Christmas.

"I figured I'd get them the same way you and Yao get everything. Stealing can't be that hard, can it?" Gilbert answered rather nonchalantly. "Hell, if Ludwig can pull something off like that, I'm sure I can."

"But doesn't that destroy the whole spirit of Christmas?" Roderich asked.

"We're in a prison camp. If that hasn't already destroyed the spirit enough, I can't imagine what will," Ludwig added.

"Would you stop complaining about things and just give me a general idea of what you want?" Gilbert snapped.

"I already said the whole Holy Rome thing."

"And I asked for inevitable demise."

"Can I ask for Toris to break his nose?" Yao chimed in. "Along with you going mute?"

"Okay, that's a start," Gilbert said slowly.

"I'd like –" Roderich started.

"For the love of God, don't say anything," Gilbert interrupted.

"I was going to say chocolate. There's no need to be rude."

"I want a dog. Specifically Vytautas," Ludwig said. "Either him or one of my own dogs."

Gilbert started laughing, falling back on his cot. "Oh, ja, let me just go right up to Toris and ask him for his dog. Better yet, why don't I break his nose in the process? Get two wishes down in one move. Come on, Luddy, ask for reasonable things!"

"What about vodka?" Ivan asked. "Is that a legit wish?"

"Thank you, Ivan, for finally suggesting something that we can actually accomplish. Yes, I'm pretty sure one of us could figure something out." Gilbert scribbled down something in his diary, glancing back up at everyone eagerly.

"I would still like chocolate," Roderich added.

"Right. Anything else for you?"

"My inevitable demise?"

"Damn it, Roderich!" Gilbert cursed, getting out of bed. He picked up one of the rocks from a pile of gravel on the floor, throwing it through the bars at the Austrian. "Death is _not_ an option!"

"What if someone else besides him wishes for his death?" Yao suggested.

"Don't even think about that. Now, Yao, what would you like that doesn't have to do with any bodily harm to me?" Gilbert said, tapping his pen on the diary's cover.

"Like I said, I want Toris to break his nose."

Gilbert sighed, writing something down. "No more suggestions from you. Okay, so the only real one left is Ludwig. And _don't_ tell me you want a dog."

"What if it's a puppy? Just a little dog?" Ludwig asked hopefully. "I want a dog or someone to explain what this whole Holy Rome thing is."

"Sorry, I can't do either of those things. I guess you'll have to be happy with what I'm giving you," Gilbert said smugly.

 _"Why can't he just tell him now?"_ Yao said to Ivan in Mandarin. _"It would save us all the trouble."_

 _"Well,"_ Ivan started, trying to think of a logical explanation. But was there really one? If Ivan would've been in charge of the younger Ludwig, he would've told him what happened almost immediately. For some strange reason, though, Gilbert and Roderich had chosen to lie for centuries. What good did that do? All they were doing was confusing the poor boy.

Unless there was something Ivan didn't know about it.

Perhaps if they told him everything it would trigger all those suppressed memories. Ivan was there when the boy was dying – it was painful and traumatizing. Did they not want him to relive that? Still, that was a pretty poor excuse for hiding something all these years. There had to be something else, something more important.

 _"Well what? They're just being overprotective,"_ Yao added, snapping Ivan out of his thoughts.

 _"Maybe there's something we don't know about it all?"_

 _"If you ask me, they're just –"_

"What are you two talking about?" Gilbert asked.

"Nothing that concerns you," Yao shot back.

"Oh, right, I forgot to tell you what I want for Christmas," the Prussian said. "So, all I want is for Ivan and Yao to admit they're hopelessly in love."

"I really wish you were a mute."

* * *

"Would you care to explain why the laptop has its internals removed?" Toris asked with an air of superiority, holding up Eduard's old computer for Raivis to see. The bottom panel hung open, revealing an empty cavity where Toris presumed electronic looking things should be – he wasn't exactly well learned in the field of such things. But even he could see that something had happened. A few loose wires and bits of laptop internals were still clinging to the edges; their ends tattered as if someone had haphazardly ripped out pieces of the computer.

"Didn't you do that?" Raivis replied calmly. He didn't even look up from the records, filling in more causes of deaths as Toris stood in front of him tapping his foot. Why he wasn't already submitting to Toris was a completely mystery to the Lithuanian. Had he actually gotten a bit more rebellious in the past weeks?

"I would remember doing a terrible job like this. What are you trying to do?"

The Latvian finally glanced up for a moment, giving Toris a completely unreadable look. For a split second Toris tried to figure out what the boy was really feeling, but Raivis went right back to his work. "I didn't do that. Go ask your drunk self what happened."

"Oh, you think you're hilarious, don't you?" Toris smiled, setting the mangled laptop down on the table. "You're just so funny I might even think about breaking one of your arms this time." That comment made the boy shudder a bit – much to Toris' amusement – but it still didn't crack him.

"Please go away, I'm trying to work."

"Tell me what happened to the laptop."

"Don't you have someone else to bother?" Raivis said, circling someone's name in red ink.

"Will you just tell me what happened? I promise I won't get mad." Toris was trying the more gentle approach now, hoping that would get him to loosen up a bit.

"So you've gone from wanting to break my arm to promising you won't get angry?" Raivis held his head, still refusing to look Toris in the eye. "And where was that promise two weeks ago?"

"I was frustrated and it was a complete accident."

"And that's a valid excuse? Is being frustrated an excuse for g-g-giving your brother a concussion? Just because you're fr-fr-frustrated you can go around killing people?" Raivis' voice cracked as he spoke, tears starting to fall from his eyes. "Was E-E-Eduard's death an accident, t-t-too?"

 _Ah, so there's his real motive._

"Of course not. I know you were close," Toris started, coming up behind the boy. "But you need to understand how wrong he was."

"He w-w-wasn't _wrong! You're_ wrong! Everything you're d-d-doing now is one huge mistake! _"_ Raivis screamed, slamming his fists on the table.

"Whose side are you on, Latvia?" Toris grabbed Raivis by his jaw, holding him so the two were eye-to-eye. "Are you with the enemy or your people?"

Raivis gave Toris a hard shove, going right back to the records. He spent a few moments in silence writing in details and taking shaky breaths to calm his nerves before finally saying, "I'm with the e-e-enemy _and_ my p-p-people."

"But are you with the Empire or with the rest of the world?"

"I'm not blind l-l-like you are. The rest o-o-of the world can see wh-wh-what's happening. So yes, I am with the rest of the world."

"Latvia, please. The world wants to crush a small country like you."

Raivis slammed the records closed, gathering up his army of pens and papers. "W-w-well, now I'm frustrated, but I'm not going t-t-to crack your skull open. Good n-n-night, Toris." He walked right out of the kitchen, stomping up the stairs and slamming his bedroom door.

 _Who does he think he is?_ Toris asked himself, sitting down where the boy had been moments ago. _I'm the leader here. But that little imp thinks he can go against me. If I had a real reason to kill him, even a tiny one, I would. But after Eduard, I don't know how well the world would take me. Probably as someone not to be trusted. Damn it, Toris, why didn't you kill both of them when you had the chance? If only I wasn't so soft on him._

"What did you do this time?" Feliks snapped, appearing in the doorway of the kitchen with a fleece blanket draped over his shoulders. "Raivis is up there crying."

"I was just asking him who he's loyal to and why he's destroyed…" Toris fell short, realizing what Raivis was doing.

Something was out there; something he wasn't supposed to know about. Raivis had severed all of their means of communications. The only way to find out about the world outside the prison walls was by word. But what could this thing that was so dangerous be? Was there an assassination attempt that Raivis was part of? No, he wouldn't be able to keep anything like that a secret. So what could it be?

"There's a circle in Hell for people like you," Feliks sighed, sitting down opposite of Toris.

"I'm going to take that as a compliment. Thank you."

Feliks gave him a dirty look, pulling the blanket tighter. Toris had grown quite used to glares from the Pole by now. "You'll never guess what one of our men who just got back from leave told me." He sounded almost worried now, not so much furious with Toris.

"Is this one of those things where you really want me to guess or is that just something you said?" Toris asked.

"The Russians broke through the front weeks ago. I don't know how we missed any of it." Feliks held his head, running his fingers through his hair. "They liberated Poznan yesterday. And according to the soldier, they're coming straight for us."

"Oh, God. And we haven't been able to even postpone them?" Toris tried not to sound desperate, but he knew his history well enough that when the Russians wanted something, they weren't going to give up easily.

"We've lost two divisions. They're determined to get to us. Supposedly the Russians want Ivan back. Why they can't, like, just ask is beyond me."

"They're Russians. According to them, they don't need to ask," Toris muttered.

"They don't need to be so rude, though. But we have to put together at least some sort of battle plan before they get here. Not like it's going to do much." Feliks bit his lip, eyebrows curved up in worry.

"Can't we just escape? Leave the camp locked up?"

"Free Germany forces are waiting at the border. We're surrounded."

"Why don't we just hand over Ivan peacefully?" Toris asked.

"They want us dead. Part of deal is that they're going to kill us. At the speed they're moving, we're all going to be dead by Christmas morning. There is no _peaceful handover_ ," Feliks snapped, looking up at Toris for an answer that the Lithuanian couldn't give. "What are we going to do?

* * *

 **A/N: Why is this chapter so short?**

 **Well, my darlings, I had to break things up a bit. I don't want this already long story to go on for eternity, but I can't pack several major events into one chapter. It just looked a lot nicer all broken up. I'm sorry if you were expecting more. But this was more of a "hey, I need to develop Volkov and Sevastian's characters a bit more, let's do that," chapter than anything.**

 ** _Lyakh_ is considered a racial slur (well, according to Wikipedia it is.) I am so sorry if I offend anyone who is Polish, it really isn't meant to be taken that way.**

 **Also, not trying to be a self promoting loser or anything, but I started up a new blog that literally follows the daily life of my mother.** dailyswitzerland **on tumblr is run by yours truly.**

 **As this story is starting to wind down – I know, it's a little sad – you'll notice me saying less and less here in the author's notes. Maybe that's a good thing for some of you who don't want to hear about my trifles. But I'm just going to pretty much shut up. I'll still thank my little noodles and tell you a bit if there's something important, but I'm not going to waste any more time talking…or is it writing?**

 **Thank you to** SoulEleri **,** Seele Esser Deutsch **, and** Comix and Co **! Looks like there weren't any new ones this time around. They probably all get intimidated by the length of this monstrosity.**

 **Seriously, my few Midwesterners, Naka-Kon is in three or so weeks. If you're going, come find the Russia wandering around with the Belarus. That'll be me. And don't worry, Belarus and I are inseparable. We will be together at every moment.**

 **See you all next chapter!**


	28. Project Aborted

"Sir, with all due respect, this is inhumane!"

"Don't even think you can talk to me about inhumane things, Toris. We have records on what you've done at your camp, and they are rather extensive in length. I've personally seen them, so don't think I'm completely blind to your actions. They're very detailed, might I add. It's almost like reading a horror story when we go through your papers. My, my, what a violent boy you are. Whips and knives and even swords? This isn't the fourteenth century anymore. And there's blood and gore simply everywhere."

"Don't call me a boy. I am several thousand years older than you. How did you even get that information?"

"Our agents simply asked the prisoners. And they quickly complied. But let me ask this – why all the violence in the first place?"

"I was following _your_ orders!"

The president laughed a bit, fueling the fire that was starting in Toris. "Please, don't raise your voice. My orders were simply for you to be safe. A prison camp seemed like a perfect environment. You wouldn't be bombed by the enemy, very few would try to attack, and I could know where you were at all times. I even gave you the pleasure of running the place with your brothers and Feliks."

"Thank you, sir, it definitely was a great pleasure. You must really hate me," Toris hissed, clenching the phone tighter in his hand.

"I was trying to keep you safe. It was not because I hate you."

Then why don't you keep the project going? That _would_ keep me safe!"

"Stop getting angry. Every single word you're saying is spiteful. You used to be so kind, Toris. But something in you snapped. Ten or so years ago, I think. About the time you captured Ivan, was it?" The president asked, feigning concern for the Lithuanian.

"I don't know, he isn't of much importance to me. Why are you even asking me about my own mental health? I'm rather sane, thank you," Toris replied. He was quickly losing his patience with the man.

"Because it's important. Many studies have led to believe that a personification of a nation ties in directly with that country's wellbeing. When you were hurt at the battle in Berlin, our men lost in Bucharest. Every single time we've lost a battle, it's because something has gone wrong with you four. One of the key attacks to kill the rebellion in Hungary that's lasted years after Elizabeta's death was completely overtaken by simple commoners against our army. An agent at Bolesność reported that you came to the camp that same morning hung-over and with a broken hand. Do you care to explain anything?"

Toris bit his lip, trying to think of some sort of lie. Telling the president that he'd accidentally slammed his hand in a door when he was drunk the night before wasn't quite what the man wanted to hear. Even more so if it had caused them to lose the battle that could've finally ended the resistance in Hungary.

"I can see that you don't want to talk. Whatever happened to that nice Toris? Now you're just some average alcoholic with zero mental stability," the president sighed, sounding like an exhausted father.

"Oh, and what do you know about things like that? Firstly, I am not an alcoholic," Toris started, although he knew fairly well that claim was true. However, his pride was much too great to admit to a drinking problem. He may be rather lowly by now, but even he had to keep some of his dignity about him. "Every man has a drink once in a while."

"But not to the levels you take it to."

"So what if I need something to numb my senses? Tell you what, why don't you come live in Hell for ten years and tell me you wouldn't like something to blur out even a night? That's right, you'd be in the same position as me, probably even worse," Toris snarled.

"Now, don't start saying I would be a drunk as well," the president scoffed, laughing at Toris yet again. "Because unlike you, I am a rather mentally stable person."

"There it is again! First you call me an alcoholic, and then you have the nerve to accuse me of being insane? Why, sir, I'm beginning to think you're rather rude!"

"Oh, please, that's coming from a man who hasn't been in the right mind for over ten years. We have several psychiatrists who have studied you and your ways, Toris. They carefully look over your papers and analyze reports from the agents. All of them come up with the same results – you're not mentally stable. They've studied your mindset so much they probably know it better than you do. And one of the most interesting notes I've gotten was that every single one of them says you think you're doing the right thing and following my orders, yet you've twisted them out of shape."

"I am following your orders, and don't tell me I'm not," Toris growled. "You distinctly said to use any means necessary to eliminate misbehaviour. So I used those means. While they might be a bit cruel, they set my point in stone."

"But I did not mean for you to go to such…such horrible things. You're mad, Toris."

"Oh, why thank you, sir. Next time why don't you come and stay here for even a day and tell me that you wouldn't be just a little crazy?" Toris knew he shouldn't be talking so sarcastically to the president, but he was pushing his luck. The Lithuanian was a man of great pride – and this idiot who thought just because he was in charge of a country he could push people around – was trying to choke that pride.

"I'm not going to fight with you anymore. Project Bolesność is abandoned. I'll have to request that you let all of my agents go. If you wish to leave the country, that is of none of my concern. But keep in mind you are surrounded." The president's tone was almost mocking him and his situation, instead of being concerned. "Personally, I hope the Russians get to you. Perhaps they could put some sense back into your head."

That was the end for Toris – one could only take so much of this verbal abuse. "I hope they find you first. I hope your family is murdered right before your eyes, and then the Russians take you back to Moscow," he whispered. "Then they'll beat you, leaving whip mark after whip mark across your back. They'll laugh at you and taunt you, bring up all of your past sins, all while continuing to beat you senseless. Once you've been weakened, they'll break your ribs one by one. After that they'll start cutting off little things humans don't necessarily need – fingers, toes, ears, perhaps even an arm or a foot. For the grand finale they'll use the smallest lethal dose of radium and leave you to your _agonizingly slow death!"_ By the end he was screaming at the top of his lungs, ready to go to Vilnius himself and kill the president.

"…That's exactly the kind of morbid thing the psychiatrists expect a mentally unstable person to say," the president said, his voice shaky with fear and maybe a bit of shock.

"I am completely unstable. No sane person would kill their own brother."

"You _monster_ ," the president gasped. "Why…No, who was it? Why weren't our offices alerted of this?!"

Toris started hysterically laughing, playing along with the president's accusations of him being a madman. "Oh, it was just Eduard. Nobody important enough to report. And your offices had no clue because I've put all of your agents in solitary confinement and my dearest brother, Raivis, has cut off our communications from the world. I just so happened to find that one of our newest prisoners had a phone on him. But now that you've abandoned me to the cold and dark world, I guess you don't need to know anymore."

"Toris, stop this right now. Where are my agents?"

"Goodbye, Mr. President. I hope you find Moscow very comforting. And by the way, one of your agents wanted to know what my methods of punishment were like firsthand. He's dead. I'm terribly sorry to say none of your agents shall be making the return trip," Toris said in a sing-song voice, nearly bursting out in laughter again when he hear the president gasp.

"Wait! Don't you –"

Toris hung up before he could finish his sentence. He threw the phone down, stomping on the thing repeatedly to make sure it would never work again.

"Here, I'm terribly sorry you had to hear that," Toris said, picking up the remains of the phone. He handed it back to the new prisoner, who accepted it with a trembling hand and a nervous look in his eye. The man wasn't even numbered yet, still completely new to Toris' hatred.

"Is everything alright, sir?" The guard asked, glancing from the prisoner to Toris.

"Oh, yes. Everything is just fine. However, he knows too much now." Toris pointed towards the new prisoner accusingly. "Kill him," he ordered, the guard giving him a crisp salute. As the Lithuanian walked back to the office, he couldn't help but flinch when the man started begging for mercy and a gunshot silenced the cries. Two in the morning was just much too early for things like this. Especially after being told he was mad.

* * *

 _Elizabeta gently closed the door, waiting for a moment to see if anyone had heard them sneak downstairs. After a moment of eerie silence, she twisted the lock and came over to Ludwig. A fool could sense how worried she was; from the way she walked to how she couldn't stop fidgeting, it was in plain sight. Of course, this only put Ludwig on edge. Something had to be very wrong for her to be this distraught._

 _"You only have one more chance to communicate with me," she started, her voice trembling as she spoke. "After that, I won't be able to talk with you anymore. So, before you go out onto the battlefield, I have to lay down a few ground rules."_

 _"Can I ask you something?" Ludwig put a hand on Elizabeta's to get her to stop moving. With a weary sigh she sat down next to Ludwig, tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear so Ludwig could easily see the franticness in her forest green eyes._

 _"Number one – you absolutely cannot try and alter history," she carried on, completely disregarding Ludwig's question. Now her hands were shaking as she started to list the rules on her fingers. "Just let the battle run its course, do as Ivan says, let Francis kill…Moving on to number two – don't talk about the present to anyone. We can't mess up history. If we do –"_

 _"Elizabeta, please, stop this," Ludwig pleaded, trying to get her to make eye contact. She didn't even glance up, staring blankly down at the floor._

 _"No, I have to tell you what to do." She tried to sound determined, but it came out as more of a scared child's tone._

 _"But you don't need to get this –"_

 _"Get this what? Upset?! I'm going to die!" She screamed, finally looking up at the boy. Her eyes weren't so terrified now, but wild. "Once you go away, I'm going to fade into memory! You don't understand what this is like! I know that Christmas Eve is going to be my last conscious day! How am I not supposed to be upset?!"_

 _Ludwig kept silent for a moment, trying to process everything she'd just said. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry. I had no idea."_

 _"What, and you think that's going to fix things? Listen, saying sorry is worthless! Aren't you smart enough to know that? Sometimes you can't apologize or offer sympathy for a situation!" She clenched her hands into fists, looking like she was fighting back the urge to beat Ludwig senseless._

 _"I know that –"_

 _"No you really don't! You don't know that this is like! You're not the one dying in a few days! Apologies fix absolutely nothing!"_

 _"I would know that better than anyone else," Ludwig snarled. "Where were you in 1918? Oh, wait, that's right, Roderich did all of the apologizing for you. And where were you in 1945? Were you right beside me when the whole damned thing came crashing down and everyone acted like it was my personal fault? No! You've never had to suffer through that! So don't think you can tell me how much an apology is worth!"_

 _Elizabeta took a shuddering breath, sounding like she could cry. "I'm going to die, Ludwig. I'm going to die and there isn't a thing I can do about it. I can't even see everyone else for a final time. I want to do so many things before Christmas Eve and I can't. I'm stuck here." She looked over at Ludwig with tears starting to fall down her face. "I didn't mean to lash out like that, but I'm scared. I'm really, really afraid. I don't want to know what death is like."_

 _Ludwig put aside all of his anger that he'd had welling within him a moment ago, pulling Elizabeta into a hug. She didn't say anything, only holding the dying boy close to her and sobbing. For what seemed like an eternity they stayed this way, until Elizabeta finally stopped crying and Ludwig slowly let her go._

 _"I'm so sorry you have to see me like this," she sighed, wiping at her eyes._

 _"Don't be. It's okay to cry, we're all at least a little bit human."_

 _"I know. But I'm just afraid of what's in store for me. I'm scared of what I've left behind," Elizabeta said, looking away from Ludwig ashamedly. "I don't know where I'm going after this. Not only that, I'm starting to have a lot of regrets. Like being so rude to Vladimir all those years. Do you think that'll count as a sin?"_

 _"Who's Vladimir?"_

 _"Oh, right. That's Romania's human name. God, I'm such a bad person in retrospect. You don't think of how bad you are right up until the end. And then you suddenly see that you're the worst person you know."_

 _"You're not the worst. Believe me, I know bad people." Ludwig pointed to himself. "And you are nothing compared to me."_

 _Elizabeta managed a tiny smile, her face still red from crying. "Stop that. You've always been too sweet to me Ludwig. You're too nice for your own good."_

 _"I'm too nice?" Ludwig laughed dryly. "Do you know anything about me or my history? That's the first time I've ever heard someone call me 'too nice.'"_

 _"You have to remember there are still people out there in the world like Toris. Compared to him, you're a saint."_

 _"Considering that he's just repeating what I did, I think that puts him on the same level as me."_

 _"But you've made up for that. You can't think that everyone judges you by your past. Think about your big brother and Ivan. If everyone only thought of their history I'm positive those two would be in exile somewhere. Listen, you really are a doll, when you're not around people that make you angry," Elizabeta explained. "So, you know, most of the human race and Feliciano. Oh, speaking of Feliciano," she said, perking right up again. "I forgot to tell you this the last time we talked. So, I've been putting this off for a long time now, but you know that little girl, Feli?"_

 _"I've been meaning to ask you about that! She's one of the thousand of Italy brothers, right? So, what is she? San Marino? Malta? Vatican City?" Ludwig listed off all the Italian countries he could think of that he hadn't met a personification to._

 _"About that," Elizabeta said, shifting uncomfortably. "She's not really…a she."_

 _"What?"_

 _Elizabeta gave him another smile, although this one was more embarrassed than the first. "Feli is short for Feliciano."_

 _"I'm sorry, what?"_

 _"That 'girl' that Holy Rome is in love with is a boy. Feliciano Vargas, the same North Italy you know. Holy Rome never finds this out, but I thought you should know."_

 _"Does he remember this time?" Ludwig asked quietly, still trying to put all the pieces together._

 _"He remembers it better than anyone else, Ludwig. Please, don't ever ask him about it."_

 _"I won't."_

 _"No, I'm dead serious. He never wants to hear about this time again. And if you bring it up, I'm not sure what could happen." Elizabeta glanced away for a moment, wringing her hands again. "Just please, never say anything about what you hear here."_

 _"Why doesn't he want to remember?"_

 _"Because, if you watched your best friend and first love bleed to death, would you ever want to think about them again?"_

* * *

"Oh, my God, we are so going to die," Feliks whispered. "We're completely screwed."

Toris glanced up for just a moment, going right back to his work the minute Feliks tried to make eye contact with him. He didn't reply for quite some time, carrying one with scribbling and scratching out the old ideas furiously. "Thank you for that lovely update. Now, have you gotten anywhere with your plans?"

"I started to draw Szczecin, and it sort of turned into a horse's head," Feliks admitted, holding up his half drawn horse for Toris to see. The Lithuanian took one look at the paper before crumpling up his own and throwing it into the trash can.

"Okay, so you've drawn a horse and I've come up with a thousand fantasy ideas that will never work. Raivis, what do you have so far?" Toris looked over at the boy expectantly. He held up his paper, which only had a handful of words on it in all capital letters.

 _I DON'T CARE IF YOU DIE._

"So, altogether, we have hopeless plans, a horse's head, and a sweet little note from you. That rounds out to just about… _nothing_. God, this is just wonderful. Now all that's left is to wait for the Russians to come and kill us all," Toris sighed, holding his head.

"They're not going to kill me," Raivis added with a smirk. "Their leader has direct orders not to kill me. But you two are dead."

"You know, normally I would've killed you right now, but I'm sort of in an end-of-my-life crisis at the moment and I'm not going to do anything," Toris said, not even looking up at Raivis.

"Have fun being dead."

"Oh, I will," Toris snapped. "Believe me; it's going to be great."

"So are they really going to kill me too? Because, like, I'm not really part of anything," Feliks asked rather worriedly.

"I guess I could talk to the man, but he's kind of grumpy most of the time. He'll probably want to kill you for fun, though."

"So they're led by a homicidal maniac? Wow, who would've guessed something like that? A Russian man with a taste for killing? I've never seen one of those," Toris laughed, appearing to be completely mad now. Feliks couldn't be sure, but something had changed about him since this morning. He almost seemed like he didn't care all that much about anything, really.

"This is it, huh?" Feliks leaned back in his chair, putting his feet up on the table. "I never thought it would end this way."

"Get your feet off the table," Toris growled, giving Feliks a dirty look.

"It's the end of my life; I can do what I want."

"Well, it's the end of mine too, so I can say what I want. Get your feet off the table."

"Make me."

For a moment, Toris looked like he was seriously considering doing something violent to the Pole, but he decided against it. "Fine, do whatever you want." And with that, he disappeared from the kitchen and stomped up the stairs.

"Hey, I'm going on a walk," Feliks said quietly. "Do you want to come with me?"

"I have nothing better to do," Raivis answered, still smiling.

 _It must feel nice knowing you'll be saved. He doesn't even have to worry about how quick his death will be. I should've defected when I had the chance._

The fading pink of the evening sun lit the path as the two walked towards camp, neither saying a thing. Feliks was too occupied with thoughts of his own demise to talk. What sort of painful death did the Russians have in store for him? Although Feliks had never really been as into the whole prison camp idea as Toris the world still thought of him as the enemy. In reality, Feliks was more of the propaganda person than anything. He made most of the speeches and public appearances instead of killing. But he was going to die for doing nothing more than talking.

The wind suddenly picked up, making Feliks shove his hands into his pockets. Out of the blue he felt a flat little box in one of them. Strange, he didn't remember putting anything in his pocket. When he pulled out the box for inspection, he found that it was not a box, but a cassette tape. And a rather old one at that – 1962, as the little label read.

"Where did you get that?" Raivis asked, taking the tape from Feliks. He held it up, examining the front and back for any sign of what it could hold.

"I don't know, I just found it."

"I wonder what's on it."

"Who cares? It's probably empty."

"But it has a label," Raivis said, pointing to the piece of tape serving as such. "It has to have something on it."

"We'll listen to it when we get back, okay?" Feliks took it back from the Latvian, placing it back safely in his pocket.

"What if it's a spy message?" Raivis asked excitedly, his blue eyes gleaming.

"From 1962? I doubt it."

"But it could be a really old spy message!"

"Well, I'm sure those spies are long dead."

Raivis crossed his arms. "Why do you have to ruin everything?"

"Because," Feliks started right as they arrived at the gate. The guards opened it for them, giving the two a salute. "I have to ruin everything for you so it's fun for me."

"That's a stupid game."

"My whole life is a stupid game," Feliks said, giving the boy a playful shove. "Don't you know that?"

"Where are you intending on going?" Raivis asked, looking around the camp.

"I don't really know. Wherever my feet take me, I guess."

"Why did they take you to me?"

Feliks jumped, startled to find Ivan laying in the snow right beside him. How did he miss someone of his size? Then again, the Russian was shirtless and laying flat in a giant snow drift, so he wasn't exactly visible. That only raised a more important question – why was he like this?

"Okay, Ivan, your minute's up," Gilbert called, appearing from around the side of the barrack. He backed up a ways when he saw Feliks, red eyes flitting from Ivan to the Pole.

"You people are so pathetic. Next time come up with a better dare than that," Ivan said, standing up.

"What are they doing here?" Gilbert asked in a worried voice, motioning to Feliks and Raivis.

"I don't know, they just showed up."

"We were on a walk," Raivis answered. "What are you doing?"

"We're playing truth or dare. Do you want to join us?" Gilbert threw Ivan his shirt, gesturing for the three of them to follow him.

Feliks looked at Raivis, who only shrugged and went off after the Prussian. Figuring that he had nothing better to do with the last three days of his life, Feliks followed along as well.

"Look, I found us two new victims," Gilbert said, pushing Feliks and Raivis in front of him. The other countries sitting on the floor were rather startled, looking at the two with a mixture of hatred and distrust.

"Are they here to kill us?" Roderich asked almost hopefully. This remark earned him a hard shove from Yao. Was this normal of Roderich? Feliks didn't really know the man well enough to know if he was constantly suicidal.

"No, they're not here to kill us. I – being the splendid person that I am," Gilbert put a hand to his chest, putting on a faked British accent. "Have invited these two into our high-class society for just a night to see how aristocrats entertain themselves."

"By entertainment you mean forcing people to tell their darkest secrets or do something incredibly stupid," Ludwig added.

"Well, ja, that is what I mean. You, two sit," Gilbert ordered, to which Feliks and Raivis immediately complied.

"What did you do to your hand?" Ludwig asked, looking at Raivis' bandaged fingers.

"Do you want the truth or the lie that I'm supposed to tell?"

"Truth."

"Well," Raivis started, holding up his left hand proudly. "Toris broke them for me. And he fractured my skull while he was at it."

"That's a little harsh," Gilbert added.

"Why did he do that?" Roderich asked, seeming almost bored with the whole thing.

"I was helping Eduard transmit things from the enemy. And I was helping people escape."

"Where is Eduard? I haven't seen him around lately," Ivan said.

"He's…" Raivis fell short, not wanting to give them the real answer. "He's gone."

"Like on a trip or something?" Ivan was still rather concerned about Eduard's wellbeing.

"Can we just leave it at that? He's gone, okay?" Feliks snapped, pulling Raivis close. He didn't want the poor boy to go into relapse over Eduard's death again – part of him felt it was his duty to protect Raivis.

"Okay, Raivis, truth or dare?" Yao asked, glancing over at the boy.

"Truth," he replied, seeming a bit depressed now.

Yao smiled deviously, folding his hands under his chin. "How many people have you slept with?"

"Does Ivan count?" Raivis asked unknowingly, completely oblivious to the context of the question.

"Oh, shit, Yao, you have some competition!" Gilbert laughed, watching as both Ivan and Yao turned bright red. "Way to go, Raivis!"

"For your information, he is completely naïve. He means it in an innocent way," Ivan snarled.

"But that time at your house –" Raivis started.

"Stop talking, Raivis," the Russian snapped. "Yao, what kind of question was that?"

"I didn't think he would answer that way!"

"Okay, my turn," Gilbert said, still laughing a bit. "Feliks, truth or dare?"

"Dare."

"Lick Ivan's face, right now. All the way up his scar."

"Good God, you people all have messed up minds," Ludwig sighed, giving his brother a slap upside the head.

"I just wanted to see if Feliks could actually do it. He's terrified of Ivan," Gilbert answered simply.

"I'm not scared," Feliks shot back, which was a complete lie. Ivan did terrify him. There was just something about him that struck a bad nerve in Feliks. But he wasn't going to let them know that. Moving as quickly as possible to get it over with, Feliks grabbed Ivan's face and ran his tongue all the way up the man's long scar. But before he could go back to Raivis, Ivan grabbed Feliks and started kissing him.

Feliks was no stranger to things like this, but Ivan was not the man he wanted to even be close to. Even worse, it reminded him of how Toris had tried to use him when Raivis got his concussion. He slapped the Russian, pushing away from him. Ivan gave Feliks a sweet grin, letting the man go. By now Gilbert and Yao couldn't stop laughing, and Raivis was trying his best not to.

"Ivan is completely exempt from anything he doesn't want to do because of that," Gilbert managed in between fits of laughter.

"What were you thinking?" Feliks hissed. "I could have you killed for that."

"But it was worth it to see your face. And you won't kill me," Ivan said with a hint of arrogance.

"Okay, that's it, I'm done. I need to go wash my mouth with, like, Holy Water or something." Feliks stood up, marching out of the barrack.

"I'm sorry, he's a little upset right now. I have to go too. If I don't come back and Toris finds out, he'll…" Raivis' voice faltered. "Goodbye."

"You two are no fun at all. One innocent little joke and Feliks is gone," Gilbert huffed. "Good night."

As soon as Raivis left, Yao started pulling things out from his shirt pocket. "Let's see," he said, pulling out a ring of keys. "Between them they had keys, a watch, two pens, a wallet, a whole thing of little candies, and the very best of them all." He held up a cassette tape with a label reading 1962.

"God, we should put you in handcuffs." Ludwig took the cassette tape from Yao, looking it over closely.

"Thanks for covering for me, Ivan. Clever move with the whole kissing thing," Yao added, flashing Ivan a smile.

"I wasn't going to let him catch you," Ivan replied, wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand. "You could stand to be a bit more careful. If I wouldn't have done that you could've gotten in serious trouble."

"But I didn't," Yao said, glancing at the cassette tape. "Why the hell would they have this?"

"I can't help it. They're just too easy."

"What year is the tape?" Ivan asked, reaching out for the little rectangle.

"It says 1962," Ludwig answered, handing it over to the Russian. His violet eyes flickered with recognition for a moment, accompanied by a tiny smile.

"I'll make sure that this gets returned," he said softly, holding the cassette close.

* * *

The day before Christmas Eve came faster than Toris expected. He'd been up working all night and hadn't realized the time. That is, until the sun came up. Rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palms, he looked over the plans he'd drawn up. Sure, they were a bit ridiculous and had a high probability of failing, but at least there was some hope. As long as everything aligned perfectly, he could get out of here without being immediately executed. But would everything fall into place? After all, the plan called for a rather large hole in the Free German Army's lines, which they would not have. But maybe, just maybe –

 _Who am I kidding,_ he said to himself, tearing up the page. _That was never going to work._ Toris picked up the paper pieces and threw them away. Nothing was going right for him, and yet he was still determined to come up with some sort of idea to save his life.

With a frustrated sigh, he pulled out a clean sheet of paper and started all over. But this time Toris didn't get too far – he was tired and all of his plots for an escape were completely ridiculous. He slumped over on his desk, wondering how painful death by radium was. Then again, the Russians would probably torture him first.

 _This is the end of the line for me. I might as well drink myself to death._

 _Hell, that isn't such a bad plan, but I don't have any vodka left. But do I have money? No, Feliks took my wallet away. Okay, so who has money I can take?_

 _Oh, wait. I know._

Toris got up, stretching just enough that something popped in his back that probably shouldn't have. Ignoring the slight pain, he went out into the hall and cautiously looked around before going into Eduard's bedroom.

After locking the door behind him, Toris tried to figure out where to start. He'd torn apart the dresser in the search for the radio and hadn't found a wallet. And the desk had been completely hollowed out, so it wasn't in there. So it had to be somewhere else. Figuring the closet was the best place to start he opened the door and began rifling through Eduard's things. Part of him felt a little remorse for going through a dead man's personal stuff, but most of him was concentrated on finding the wallet.

Pushing aside a few uniforms Eduard had been required to wear at certain times, Toris found something much more interesting than a wallet. A little cardboard shoebox, with the words "For Toris" written across the top was nestled in the corner. What did Eduard have to leave him? Toris pulled the box out, sitting down on Eduard's bed.

He was a bit disappointed that the box did not contain immense amounts of wealth or anything of that kind, but a handful of cassette tapes, a cassette player, and a folded up note.

Grabbing one of the tapes labeled "PART 1," Toris put it into the player and pushed the play button.

" _Day four of Project Bolesność,"_ Eduard said quietly, sounding rather nervous. _"We had our first death today. One of the guards did him in. God, please protect that man. We didn't even know his name. Instead of making another prisoner bury him, Toris and I went out and did it ourselves. Made him as proper of a grave as we could."_

Toris had almost entirely forgotten about that. The two had buried their first ever death, nearly crying about it. It was rather strange for Toris to think of being upset by a prisoner's death when he'd ordered four of them to be killed today.

 _"I don't know what I'd do without Toris. We've only been here four days, and already he's trying to draw up plans for an escape. I have no clue where he plans to escape to, but whatever he can think up I'm willing to try. This is literally Hell. I'd rather die than spend another day here."_

 _"What are you doing?"_ A new voice asked. Toris couldn't recognize them at all – they sounded gentle enough to be Raivis, but there was something about the pitch.

 _"I'm recording something for future evidence so maybe I can survive when the enemy wins the war,"_ Eduard answered.

 _"What makes you think they'll win? Listen, Future Eduard,"_ the voice Toris couldn't place started laughing. _"We're going to win this war. And then Ivan won't be a superpower again."_

 _"Future Toris, don't listen to yourself."_

Toris hit stop. That gentle voice, the one that sounded like he would never hurt anyone – that was him? No, it couldn't be. It was just a ridiculous thought.

And yet he knew that was his voice. It couldn't be anyone else's.

Giving a disheartened sigh, Toris pressed play again.

 _"What, you think I'm a liar?"_ The Toris of so many years ago was still laughing. _"Come on, Eduard, I'm not like that at all."_

 _"Right."_

 _"You don't believe me?"_

 _"I never have believed you."_

 _"Listen, Future Eduard, I hope you're a better man than this one is,"_ Toris said. _"But Eduard, we even have matching numbers – 001 and 003. We could be secret agents teammates or something."_

 _"You'd be the worst secret agent ever,"_ Eduard said with a halfhearted laugh.

The audio abruptly stopped, leaving Toris in complete silence. He grabbed the tape labeled "PART 2" switching them out.

 _"Day 1,230 of Project Bolesność. I've discovered that Toris doesn't know how to dance,"_ Eduard said with a hint of happiness in his voice. _"Feliks had the radio on and somehow roped Toris into dancing with him to one of those old slow songs. Even though Toris had no idea what he was doing, the two were smiling the whole time. Things like this make you forget that you're in a prison camp._

 _"A few nights ago Toris came and talked to me about Natalia. Sometimes I don't know who his real love is. He seems to be loyal to Natalia, but then Feliks interferes and suddenly he's the perfect one. God, he's like a teenage girl sometimes. Personally, I think Natalia is just a tad too…terrifying for him._

 _"Then again, Toris is terrifying._

 _"Just a few days ago I saw him beating a man. For what, I don't know. But he actually acted like he enjoyed the punishment._

 _"Perhaps he was being watched and had to be mean? I really hope that's the case. That couldn't have been Toris just being cruel because he wanted to be._

 _"Could it?"_

The tape stopped for a moment, picking back up in a different time.

 _"Eduard, will you put that thing away while we are trying to have a serious discussion?"_ Now Toris could recognize his own voice. There was more of an edge to it, like he was on the fine point between talking and screaming.

 _"I'm recording this for future evidence."_

 _"You don't need evidence. Put it away."_

 _"Okay."_

 _"Thank you. It is turned off, right?"_

 _"Oh, yes,"_ Eduard answered a bit sarcastically.

 _"We have a problem. The inspectors are coming in two days and we have people like Ivan and Gilbert who will not shut up. They can't blow this whole operation for us."_

 _"Why don't we cut out their tongues?"_ Feliks suggested jokingly.

 _"Believe me, I would love to. But they wouldn't take very kind to th – damn it, Eduard, I can still see the recorder! And that light better not be on."_

 _"Will you calm down? It's just an innocent recording!"_

 _"Anything and everything can be used against us!"_

 _"Oh, what are they going to do with this? I just want it for future reference! This isn't anything I plan on using to harm you with."_

 _"Who knows? You can't trust anyone anymore,"_ Toris snapped.

The tape stopped again, and Toris changed it out for the last part.

 _"Day who-the-hell-knows of Project Bolesność. It doesn't matter anymore. I have to record this quickly, as you're probably going to wake up soon and ask what I'm doing. Listen, Toris, when you find this, I want you to think long and hard about what you just heard. I have so many hours of you talking it's almost creepy. Like, Natalia creepy, if you know what I mean. But listen to your voice, from the fourth day to the conversation about the inspectors. Do you hear the change? You lost it at some point in between there. Please, I beg of you, go back to those days. Have a change of heart. You can't go on living like this forever._

 _"I'm scared for you, Toris. I really love you, even though I don't act like it. You're my brother. All I want is for you to be happy, not this cruel and sadistic being you've become. But until something happens, you won't snap out of it._

 _"I love you, Toris."_

And with that, Toris tore the tape out of the player and threw it across the room. What was Eduard saying? Sure, Toris' voice had changed, but that didn't mean he changed. He was still the same person from all those years ago, just with a different voice. Taking a deep breath to prevent himself from breaking anything, he grabbed the note tucked away in the box.

 _"For the worst person I've ever had the pleasure of knowing,"_ the note started.

" _You were there when the world was still young. You've seen horrors and tragedies and so many other things, yet you've come to this._

 _"I personally don't care what happens to you. In just a matter of weeks the Russians will be here and they have orders to kill on sight. I presume that by the time you're reading this you've gone through my things because I'm either dead or about to be dead. But whatever. I put those tapes in with the box so you could remember what you were like. And maybe, just maybe, you'll have a change of heart._

 _"But you probably won't. Anyway, don't hurt Raivis. I don't care what you do or have done to me, but I wanted to tell you to keep him safe. He won't get killed by the Russians. Don't you dare try and kill him yourself._

 _"I've done just about everything I can do to help you._

 _"Your Once Loving Brother,_

 _"Eduard von Bock."_

Toris tore up the note, wishing Eduard would've left him some money instead.

* * *

 **A/N: Hello, I hope you're all doing well today!**

 **I'm sorry if there are some of you out there who have no idea what a cassette tape is. I grew up on those things, so I can easily picture one, but maybe if there some younger noodles out there reading this, they'll have no idea. I hope ten and eleven-year-olds aren't reading this story, but you never know. Anyways, just go Google it. Isn't that what all you young people do anyway?**

 **Thank you to my Holy Trio of reviewers, as you are now christened,** SoulEleri **,** Seele Esser Deutsch **, and** Comix and Co **!**

 **I'm not trying to be nitpicky or anything, but could I get a few more reviews? I'm very lonely most of the time and a review brightens my day.**

 **Anyway, thank you to everyone who actually does read this. It means a lot to me. I know you can't hear my sincere emotion when reading words on a screen, but I'm honest. Just by getting a tiny little following, you guys have made my little dream come true.**

 **See you all next chapter!**


	29. The Stars Look Very Different Today

Perhaps the people of Szczecin knew too much about the man in the dark coat with stone cold green eyes; so much that they couldn't help but watch him as he walked down the street. Nearly everyone stared at the man, be it for a moment and then glancing away out of politeness or watching as he went all the way down their street. Some of them knew exactly where he was going, as they'd watched him walk this same path thousands of times before. But others were just fascinated – or maybe revolted – at the fact that an alcoholic madman was representing their country.

Toris kept his head low, wishing he wouldn't draw so much attention. What separated him from every other human that made them all want to gawk like he was an exotic animal on display? Outwardly and mostly inwardly he was no different than any other person on this street. Toris was just a man with longer hair pulled into a ponytail, a few scars, and a dead look in his eyes – nothing too different from the rest of humanity.

He could feel the people silently criticizing him as he walked along, thinking horrible things about the Lithuanian. Who were these people to judge him? They were just simple commoners living out their short, simple lives. In a matter of days most of them would be dead anyways. Then again, Toris would be part of that death count.

"Get back," a voice hissed, making Toris look up. Was someone talking to him? He looked around for a moment, finally turning to a woman with a young boy by her side. She had a hand in front of her son, who couldn't be older than three.

 _Too young to die._

The boy looked up at Toris curiously, his hazel eyes twinkling with excitement. He'd obviously never seen the man walking throughout the city and was fascinated by a new face. His little hand reached out for Toris, only to be slapped back by his mother.

"Hello there," Toris said with a smile, giving the boy a tiny wave. The child's whole face lit up as he waved back.

"Hello," the woman replied, although it was not in a friendly manner. She glared at Toris like he was some sort of monster straight from the depths of Hell. Without saying any words, she told him to back away from her son.

That woman was trying to keep him _away_ from Toris.

Swallowing a few vulgar remarks, Toris waved goodbye to the boy and continued on with his journey. _The people here are just too damn rude to everyone,_ he said to himself, looking back down at the sidewalk to avoid the strange looks. _You'd think they'd have at least a little respect for me. I am their representative, after all._

 _What a sick world this is._

With a little sigh to show his disgust for the human race, Toris pushed open the door to a cramped corner store. He didn't even need the little chimes above the door for the owner of said store to know Toris had come inside – he always came at the same time every four weeks or so. It was a routine, no matter how much Toris wanted to deny it.

"Wife kick you out again?" The man behind the counter asked with a halfhearted laugh.

"If I had a wife, she would've filed a restraining order and sent me off to the Russian front," Toris answered, walking over to the man. They were rather close by now, but didn't even know each other's name. All Toris knew about him was he had a thing for blondes and had an impeccable talent for sensing moods. Maybe it was better that they knew nothing about each other – Toris didn't have to be bothered trying to remember the owner's name and the man didn't have know that Toris was the same person with a bit of a bad reputation, courtesy of Bolesność.

"Oh, so your husband sent you out?"

"Hell, he doesn't want anything to do with me anymore. Every time we talk it ends in a big fight."

"I swear, you've been coming here for eight years," the owner said, shaking his head. "And I still don't know if you're joking or not."

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not. Good luck figuring out." Toris smiled, pulling his coat closer. "I need something for my friend. What do you have that'll get him drunk fast?"

"I'll just get what you usually have. That seems to do the trick. You got a Christmas thing or something?"

Toris tried not to cringe at the mention of Christmas. All of a sudden one of the happiest holidays had turned into a horrible reminder of what's to come. "It's one of his last days to live. I got to patch a few things up before the end. Thought I'd make it special."

"Shit, should you really be getting him drunk then? What is it? Cancer? Assignment to the Russian front?" The man asked, disappearing into the back room.

"It has something to do with the Russians."

"Did no one ever teach you in school that the Russians shouldn't be messed with? Think about Napoléon and the Nazis. Are they around anymore?" The owner came back with a bottle of vodka, holding out his hand. Toris handed him a fistful of cash, taken right from Raivis' wallet. He couldn't find Feliks', and Raivis was rather easy to steal from. Most of the time the boy just assumed he lost the money somewhere and didn't put any more effort into finding it. Little did he know that Toris was using that "lost" money to buy vodka on a monthly basis. Unless, of course, Toris actually had some money of his own that Feliks hadn't taken away.

"Oh, believe me," Toris said, taking the bottle from him. "I know that better than anyone else."

"You got grandparents who're in the Soviet Union or something?"

"I was in it myself."

The owner looked at Toris for a second rather confusedly. "I don't like to get muddled in your business, but how old are you?"

"Let's put it this way," Toris started, trying to add up his real age in his head. What was it now? He'd lost count of how old he was some time ago. It should be somewhere around the two-thousand area, but he couldn't remember how many more years there were. "I am much older than I seem."

"Where the hell does an old person like you find work that pays that good?" The owner motioned to the vodka bottle – it wasn't exactly the cheapest thing.

Toris thought about telling the man for a moment, wondering if there could be any consequences. At this point security was a long faded concern, so he figured it wouldn't do much harm. "You know that camp in the forest? I work there."

"I think my life's pretty valuable, so I'm not going to ask anymore." He handed the change back to Toris, looking at him a bit nervously. Any mention of the camp sent the people of Szczecin into a panic; any commoner with outside knowledge of the place was often times taken away in the night. "I hope your friend gets better or doesn't get shot up."

"That's the worst thing about it. We're dying together," Toris said, looking away a bit ashamedly. "Christmas morning."

"You're the most depressing person I've ever met."

"Thanks."

The owner leaned against the wall, studying Toris closely. He almost seemed like he knew something, something he shouldn't know. "So I guess you're not coming back in January?"

"This'll be my last time. Thank you." Toris opened up the door, flashing him a small grin. "My name's Toris, by the way."

"Moshe. It's been a pleasure knowing you, Toris."

"Oh, I wanted to tell you before I left. If you have family here, get them out right now. Go far, far away from here. Maybe to Sweden or something. But you need to leave before Christmas Eve."

"Can I ask why or is this going to get me in trouble with the police?" Moshe asked.

"The city is nearly surrounded by now. Free Germany on the west, Russia on the east. There's still a small window to escape. I've heard rumors there's a man taking people out to Norway on a ferry. But you need to go right now," Toris replied. "If you don't, you'll get caught up in the siege on Christmas morning."

"Why aren't you going?"

Toris paused, thinking that question over for a moment. Why wasn't he going? He'd spent all those hours on plans, and yet there was a perfect one right in front of him. Escape was an option, so why wasn't he taking it? He honestly didn't know, so he finally mustered a, "I…I can't leave my job. And I have a friend and a brother to take care of. I can't leave."

"Well, best of luck in the afterlife. Thank you, Toris. If you do survive, come find me."

"I'm not going to survive. But it's a nice thought."

* * *

Ivan handed the slip of paper to the guard, praying the man wouldn't notice the way the handwriting was a bit more slanted than normal. His forgery skills had really been going downhill for a while now. After Toris figured out that Ivan had a talent for forging things, Ivan's work consisted mostly of things that were brutal to his hands.

Ivan glanced over at the guard, wondering what was taking the man so long. He'd done plenty of things like this in the past, but for some reason tonight was ten times as nerve wracking. It felt like every little slip-up could quite easily end in death for Ivan – some of that was probably true. And even worse, he'd made the mistake of letting Roderich come along on this mission. Something in Ivan told him that Roderich was only here to try and get himself killed. If Roderich uncovered the whole plan, both Ludwig and Ivan would find themselves dead as well.

The guard handed the paper back to Ivan, muttering something about Toris that the Lithuanian would not be very pleased to hear. He opened the gate for the three, motioning for them to go. Without missing a beat, Ivan thanked the man and walked on. Ludwig followed close behind, while Roderich took Ivan's _we-need-to-hurry_ plans in the completely opposite direction. Several times as they were nearly running down the path, Ivan went back and dragged the Austrian along. A mischievous gleam in his eye told Ivan that he wasn't only doing it to try and get caught; he was trying to get Ivan mad.

And it was working fairly well.

"Okay, we need to be in and out," Ivan explained with a snarl, tightening his grip on Roderich's wrist. "No one says anything. They're all probably asleep by now, but if they're not, Roderich, don't you _dare_ screw this up for us."

"Why would I do such a thing?"

"Because you're the kind of person to do that," he shot back. "All I want you to do is stay by me and not mess anything up. Can you handle that?"

"What, do you think I'm a child?" Roderich asked, his voice completely monotone.

"The thought has come to mind several times," Ludwig answered, glancing back at the Austrian.

"And what would you know? You're hundreds of years younger than me."

"But I'm thousands of years smarter," Ludwig said with a hint of a smile.

As they drew closer to the building in the snowy forest, Ivan's heart stopped when he saw there were still lights on downstairs. They couldn't wait for them to go to sleep –the pass Ivan had drawn up only gave them thirty minutes to spare and even if they could stay for longer it was below freezing. He was going to have to work around one or perhaps all of the residents being awake.

"Ivan?" Ludwig asked. "Did you plan for this?"

"No, not really. But I have an idea."

"And is this idea actually worth anything?" Roderich added sarcastically, pulling his wrist out of Ivan's hand.

"It could get us killed, so yes, it's worth something to you." Ivan walked up to the office, slowly going up to the front window. From a crack in the curtains he could see that there was no one in the front room and the hallway was dark all except for one room.

He pressed his ear up to the glass, jumping when he heard the faint sound of laughter. And then there was something else, another sound that he couldn't quite place. But he recognized it. It was something so familiar, yet completely distant in memory.

"Can we go in?" Ludwig said, stepping right up to the door.

"Is it unlocked?"

Ludwig tried the door – much to their surprise it was unlocked. Whatever they were laughing about inside must've been so important they forgot to lock up. Without much of a second thought to anything, Ivan went over to Ludwig and quietly opened the door.

He took a few wary steps inside, praying this wasn't a trap Toris had set up. No matter how much he would like to deny it, Toris was rather intelligent. That man could put a whole string of plans together to make one giant trap to kill them all. Ludwig was right at Ivan's side, clearly as apprehensive as the Russian was, while Roderich pushed past the two and began looking around without a hint of caution. Ivan shut the door behind them, still waiting for Toris to come out of the shadows with a radium vial and a loaded gun. Every little sound made him panic; even Roderich's footsteps startled Ivan.

For a while he was so nervous he didn't even realize the music.

When he'd calmed down enough to think straight, the music finally hit him. It was an old, slow song, accompanied by some French accented voice. Roderich looked back at Ivan, his eyes bright. The Austrian was almost smiling as he crept closer to the only room with the lights on. He hadn't looked this alive for a long time, possibly since Elizabeta's death. Music struck something in Roderich, relighting his fire.

On completely normal circumstances, Ivan would've been happy for Roderich. He loved it when the Austrian was cheerful. But now that they knew there was someone awake and there was only a one in three chance of it being Raivis, their whole plan was botched. Someone was bound to find them out. But maybe if they could –

"Can I stop now?" Raivis asked, his voice startling Ivan out of his thoughts.

"C'mon, I think I almost got it."

Oh, God, why did Toris have to be awake? Just when Ivan thought that maybe they could use Raivis to their advantage, that demon _had_ to be there.

"I'm tired and I want to go to bed," Raivis groaned.

"Please, just one more song? I think I got it this time," Toris pleaded, sounding rather desperate for no obvious reason.

There was a long pause before Raivis replied with a simple, "Fine."

Another old song started up, one from the forties. Ivan felt like he remembered this song – it was in English, so maybe Alfred was singing it at some point? He did have a faint memory of Alfred singing some obnoxious song while the two were discussing important matters. But that was long before the whole "I accidentally nuked your country and will not apologize for it." Now Ivan tried not to think of anything pertaining to the loudmouthed American.

"You have to come see this," Roderich said, almost laughing as he motioned for Ivan and Ludwig to come near the doorway. Ivan came to his side, barely restraining himself from strangling the man. Why did he think that it was acceptable to talk at a normal volume when they were on a mission that required _stealth?_

"What did you need so badly?" Ivan whispered, his voice sharp with fury.

Roderich shook his head, pointing into the kitchen. Confused, Ivan stepped out from the wall just far enough to look in. He wasn't going to risk his life for something Roderich deemed hilarious.

However, now that he was seeing it with his own eyes, it was rather amusing.

Toris – presumably drunk or at least with a little vodka in his system – was holding Raivis close and attempting to dance with him. The boy was trying to tell him where his feet should go and all of those things, occasionally crying out from being stepped on. Best of all, neither of the two could stop laughing. It seemed like they realized how ridiculous this must all look and yet couldn't stop.

"What are they doing?" A voice asked from behind Ivan, a low and smooth one.

Exactly like Toris.

Ivan instinctively turned around and slammed the Lithuanian against the wall, prepared to kill. In the dim light he could see the faint glimmer of green eyes, _scared_ green eyes. For the first time in a long while Toris was the one being abused, and he was terrified of it. Keeping one hand on Toris' shoulder, Ivan put the other around the man's throat.

But in that moment he realized that Toris couldn't be in two places at once.

He'd just uncovered their whole mission.

Ivan let Ludwig go, watching as the blond took a few steps back from him. His blue eyes were wildly searching Ivan for an explanation, one hand where the Russian's had just been and the other held up in defense.

"What was that?" Toris asked, destroying any hopes Ivan had that maybe he hadn't heard a full-grown man being thrown into a wall.

Ivan took a deep breath, realizing what his nervousness had just gotten himself into. "You two, get out of here," he whispered, motioning for them to leave. "I'll handle this myself."

"No, I'm staying," Roderich protested.

"And I'm not going to leave," Ludwig added, his voice a bit shaky.

"Okay, then you two stay here," Ivan said, walking right into the kitchen.

For a moment Raivis and Toris were too startled that the Russian had just appeared from the doorway to do anything. And then Raivis put all the pieces together, his expression changing from surprised to a sad sort of horror in an instant. Finally Toris drew his pistol from its ever present spot on his belt, aiming it perfectly at Ivan. Ivan didn't even flinch, locking eyes with the Lithuanian. If he was going to die, it was going to be an honourable death.

"Good evening," Roderich said calmly, coming up beside Ivan. "We're here for a few things and then we'll be gone."

"What are you doing?" Ivan hissed, glaring at Roderich. He was willing to give up his life, but he wasn't going to let Roderich die alongside him.

"Can you not kill us immediately?" Ludwig asked, holding his hands up to show he was innocent.

Toris gave the three of them a smile, putting his gun back in its holster. "I wasn't going to kill you. S' just instinct."

"What?" Ivan couldn't help but to ask. He'd fully prepared to be dead by tomorrow morning in the past minute or two.

"I can't kill you this close to the end," Toris said like it was an explanation. "You three go back to your cells and I won't punish you. However, if this becomes a daily occurrence, I will make sure you're dead before Christmas."

Ivan backed away from Toris, wondering if it was some kind of joke. Ludwig followed suit, while Roderich stayed for a moment in hopes of being killed.

"Um…this is yours," Ivan said, taking the cassette tape labeled 1962 from his pocket. He tossed it to Toris, taking a few more steps back.

Toris looked over the tape for a moment, his eyes flickering with that same recognition Ivan had when he first saw it. After turning it over and over in his hands like it wasn't real, Toris put the cassette down on the counter next to the player. He glanced back up at Ivan, just about in tears.

"What did you want?"

* * *

"Today's Christmas Eve," Gilbert whispered to Ludwig at roll call. They'd been standing in the snow for hours, and yet that was the only thing Gilbert had to say? He'd been silent for a long time, standing at perfect attention, and that was what was on his mind?

"I know," Ludwig replied, realizing he was going to learn about Holy Rome in just one day. He'd almost forgotten, what with the excitement of last night's mission. "You've been telling me about Christmas for the past five days."

"That's because this Christmas is going to be amazing," Gilbert huffed, crossing his arms. Shivers wracked his thin body, his naturally pale skin making him look even sicker than the rest of the prisoners. Everyone looked like they were on their last leg, but Gilbert somehow managed to appear worse than that.

He almost looked like a corpse.

"Oh, believe me, it is," Ivan added, glancing over at Ludwig for just a moment. Ludwig didn't dare to look him in the eye – he was already bad enough at lying, but keeping a secret from his brother was almost impossible.

"Listen up, you pathetic filth," Toris shouted, stepping up onto the platform in front of the prisoners. He even looked a bit ill – the standard unshaven and pale face was accompanied by dark circles and tired eyes. "Christmas is tomorrow. And do you know what that means?" He paused for a moment, looking over the crowd. His eyes specifically lingered on Ivan for a moment before looking away. "Any sliver of disobedience will be treated with the death penalty. There will be nothing other than obedience tolerated. We are going to start shooting anyone who even dares to think against the Empire."

"We all already do!" A voice called out. Like a hunting dog, Toris singled out the man instantly.

"So you have a death wish?" Toris asked, jumping down from the platform and walking over to him. As the other prisoners got out of the Lithuanian's way, the protester stood tall and proud, refusing to back down in the face of death.

"Everyone knows what happens here," the man snapped. "You're probably going to kill us all off soon, anyways. The Russians are coming, aren't they? Admit it! We're all either going to be dead or free by Christmas morning! You're panicking because you know your whole scheme will be entirely uncovered for the whole world to see! You're going down in history as the next –"

"As the next what?" Toris snarled, drawing his gun. "The next Hitler?"

"Exactly!"

"There's a major difference between the hero and villain of a story! I _am_ the hero!" And with that, Toris cocked the pistol and put a bullet in the man's head.

Ludwig couldn't bear to watch the man die, so he looked down at the dirty snow. He'd seen so much death for years now – and he didn't ever want to see it again.

The worst part of it all was the man was telling the truth. Bolesność was bound to be unveiled in a day – if Elizabeta was right, the Russians would be here tomorrow morning. Along with the Russians would be some sort of media.

"Luddy, you alright?" Gilbert asked, grabbing his brother's hand. His voice was trembling as well, but he still tried to comfort his baby brother.

"I just don't want to look."

"It's okay," Gilbert sighed. "I don't want to either."

"Take this man as an example," Toris said, Ludwig still refusing to look up. "You are to leave him here. Anyone caught trying to remove his body will be shot on sight. Any questions?"

For a long while there was silence, until a voice dared to call out, "Was he right?"

"Are we all going to be free?" Another chimed in.

"The Russians are really coming for us?"

"They're going to kill you, aren't they?"

Soon hundreds of voices were shouting out questions, some livid, others worried for their sake and their families. People kept asking for guaranteed safety or a quick death. Ivan, Yao, and Gilbert were taking this opportunity to shout insults while Roderich asked how the death penalty applied to nations.

And Ludwig couldn't look up. In the midst of this revolt, he couldn't stand to see it all. He focused on the snow, praying his brother wasn't going to be dead in a moment. It was a very real thought now – Toris had said he would kill anyone being disobedient, which was Gilbert's profession.

Suddenly the snow in front of him was red.

Ludwig immediately looked up at Gilbert, who thankfully was still standing. Soon other gunshots rang out as people dropped to the ground. Out of fear, Ludwig pulled Gilbert close in an attempt to protect his brother. He screwed his eyes shut, not even wanting to think about the carnage that was awaiting them.

It seemed like the two stood there for hours, holding each other while people took their last breaths and gunshots tore apart the stillness of the forest. Ludwig knew he was acting childish – after all, he was a seasoned military man who'd been in every war Germany had fought in – but he was done with this life. He was done with watching innocents die, with sickness and starvation all around him, with blood tainted snow.

Ludwig just wanted to be far away from here. No matter what means it took, he never wanted to come back to Poland. He was _scared_ of this camp. Never once in his life had he ever been so afraid of a simple place, but now he completely understood why no one wanted to talk about things like this. A part of him could see why people tried to prove concentration camps were just a lie made up by the Allies. It almost seemed so horrid that it really was just a nightmare.

"We're going to be alright," Gilbert said in Ludwig's ear. "Don't worry, Luddy."

"I'm scared. Oh, God, I'm really scared."

"We all are. But we're going to make it past Christmas morning, okay? Hey, I got an idea. If the Russians are really coming on Christmas, why don't we have our Christmas tonight?"

"Why?"

"It'd be a little awkward if the Russians came in and we're having a Christmas party, wouldn't it?" Gilbert laughed, ruffling Ludwig's hair.

 _Here I am, standing with my brother as innocent people are being murdered, and all I can do is talk to him about Christmas?_ Ludwig asked himself, feeling tears start to well up in his eyes. _What sort of person doesn't even make an effort to help? I'm too damn afraid to even try._

"No, Ludwig, don't cry. We're all alive, right?" Gilbert said gently.

"Ja. I'm… I'm just afraid."

* * *

Raivis circled another name in red, cursing his brother for killing so many this morning. He wasn't the one who had to go through the records, find the name and number, and record them as dead. Toris had no idea how much of a struggle it was just to find one name. And then Raivis had to go through the pages and fill out the cause of death and time of death, _and_ make up a few lies for the public records. All Toris knew was that when he murdered about fifty-some people like he'd done today, their names appeared in the books with a little skull symbol next to them. The whole painstaking process was a complete mystery to him.

"Who does he think he is?" Raivis asked himself, although he'd meant to do it in his head. "Killing off fifty-two people for no reason? Now I have to make up everything! And all because he felt a little insulted? Why didn't he kill Ivan and Roderich and Ludwig last night? Fifty-two others, but not them?"

The Latvian circled yet another name in red ink, scribbling in the remaining information furiously. He'd always had the hard work thrown on him, just because no one else wanted to do it and Raivis was an easy target. No one ever asked Raivis if he wanted to do the work, they just handed a stack of papers to him and told him it had to be finished by the next morning. Raivis pulled a few all-nighters in the past forging signatures for Toris or Feliks or filling out expenses sheets for the government.

"They can't push me around. We have one more day here, and I'm going to make sure it's not spent doing things like this," Raivis said with superiority, slamming the records closed. With a bit of a proud step, he walked right into the living room and sat down by Feliks.

"What're you doing?" Feliks asked without so much as a glance towards the boy. He kept gazing out the window, focusing rather intently on the forest.

"I'm not finishing the records. You guys can't push me around anymore."

"That's nice," Feliks replied. "So, I was wondering something."

"What?" Raivis didn't mean for his voice to go up an octave like that, but he was rather surprised that Feliks was letting him get away with not finishing his work. Even the Pole was adamant on all the records being perfect. Had he really become so depressed in the last few days that he couldn't even tell Raivis to get back to work?

Feliks didn't answer for a moment, keeping his stare at the forest. "So…when the Russians…when they come to kill us, do you think you could say something and try to save my life?"

"I don't know. Their leader is really angry all the time. He's always screaming."

"Please," Feliks begged, his voice growing quieter. "I'm afraid to die."

"It can't be all that bad," Raivis said before remembering that Feliks and Toris were probably going to have painful deaths.

"I've never been this scared of anything." Feliks finally looked over at Raivis for a moment, looking like a puppy that had just gotten kicked.

"Don't be afraid of it. I'm sure death is nice."

"Says the one who's not dying tomorrow."

"But think about it! All those historical people you've seen in years past, you can see them again. And if you had any human lovers or things like that, you'll be together for eternity. I still have to stay with all these stupid humans for thousands of more years. You're definitely getting the better end of the deal."

"But what if the person I love isn't going the same place as me?!" Feliks looked back at Raivis, almost in tears. "Did you even think of that? Toris and I aren't going to both make it. I'd like to believe that he's going to…"

"What would you even do if I got the Russians to let you go? They're still going to kill Toris. Either that or he's going to do himself in."

"What?!"

"Did you seriously not notice that?" Raivis asked, a bit started at how ignorant Feliks was. "His behaviour, his words, his actions, everything adds up. He's not mentally stable anymore. And anyone in their right mind would choose suicide over a long and painful death."

"He wouldn't," Feliks whispered, turning back to the window. He seemed so disconnected now, like the world didn't really matter. "He wouldn't do that to me."

"Yes he would. Toris is selfish. He doesn't care what you think."

"You're wrong," Feliks snapped, his eyebrows curved up in concern.

"I am not."

"Yes you are! You have no idea what –" Feliks started before being cut off by a loud thump. For a moment the two remained silent, both startled by the noise. Raivis automatically went to the thought of an intruder, but then realized they were missing someone.

"Is Toris here today?" Raivis asked, hoping that sound wasn't part of what he'd just tried to explain to Feliks.

Feliks didn't answer, but rather nodded.

"You don't think he's…?" Feliks was starting to buy into what Raivis had said just a minute ago.

"I was just…Maybe we should go check."

Feliks was off the couch in an instant, dragging Raivis upstairs with him. They found Toris' door locked, with no signs of the Lithuanian actually being in there.

"Toris?" Feliks called out, knocking gently on the door to seem like he wasn't in a panic. "Are you okay?"

There was no reply.

"Where's the keys?" Feliks asked, although it was more of a demand.

"Hold on," Raivis said, searching his pockets for the loop of keys. He looked up at Feliks ashamedly after realizing that he must've left the keys somewhere. "I don't have them."

"Neither do I."

"Well, we've reached an impasse."

" _Shut up!_ " Feliks fell back on the door, running a hand through his hair. "What if he really is trying to kill himself? Oh, God, we have to do something!"

Raivis couldn't help but feel sorry for Feliks. Although he would rather have Toris dead, he still wanted Feliks to be okay. So he quickly started putting together a plan in his head, trying to figure out something. "I have an idea," he said. "But it really depends on how badly you want to get to him."

"What?" The Pole looked over at Raivis pitifully.

"Well, my room and his room are next to each other. Say we open up my window and walk out on that little ledge to his window. Eduard and I broke the lock to his window in case we ever need to get in there, so that's not a problem. It all depends on if you want to take the risk of falling," Raivis explained.

"I'm willing to do that."

Without another word, Raivis went into his bedroom and opened up the window. Climbing on top of a bookcase, Raivis slowly put a bare foot on the narrow stone ledge. Only now that he was actually going to try this, he realized how high up he was. The snowy ground seemed much farther away than it was with the windows closed. And he didn't want to completely crack his skull open.

"Hey, Feliks, why don't I do this and I'll unlock the door for you?" Raivis suggested, putting his other foot out on the ledge. He wasn't sure if he was going to be able to do this, and he didn't need Feliks' help.

"Are you sure? Hey, listen, maybe this is a really bad idea. We don't know what Toris is doing. He really could be okay. And wouldn't it kind of be intruding?" Feliks asked, his voice laced with regret.

"Part of me really wants to try this, though," the Latvian said, reaching over and grabbing the edge where the window in Toris' room met with the wall. "It'll be like a spy thing."

"Just please, don't fall."

"Who do you think I am?" Raivis gave Feliks a grin, trying to hide how frightened he really was.

"I do not want to go back to the hospital with you," Feliks sighed, leaving Raivis' room. "Hurry, okay?"

"If I hurry I'll fall."

"Stop wasting time!"

"Okay, okay," Raivis laughed a bit, slowly starting to stand up on the ledge. Thankfully it did not crumble under his weight immediately like his imagination thought it would, so he decided to take a little step. And then another.

For what seemed like hours he crept towards the window, little by little. When he couldn't hold onto the frame of his window with his bad hand anymore, he let go. And finally he reached Toris' room, grabbed the latch to open the window, and couldn't get it open.

He was as good as dead. There was no possible way to go back to his window.

"Raivis?" Feliks called, appearing from Raivis' room. "What are you doing?"

"Well, you see…"

"Oh, God, you can't get it open, can you?"

"I didn't really think that far," Raivis admitted, clutching the frame tighter in his hand. He pressed closer to the building, praying his hands wouldn't fail him. "And I can't get back."

"Try breaking the glass."

"With what?"

"I don't know," Feliks snapped. "Just try it."

"Like this?" Raivis asked, pushing his weight against the window.

"No, more forcefully. Have you ever seen American football?" Feliks tried to explain. "The players throw all of their body into their opponent. It's really gruesome and barbaric if you ask me, but try something like that."

"So, like this?" Raivis slammed into the window with his shoulder again, but it wasn't budging.

"More force. Think 'aggressive hockey player.'"

"Like –" Raivis barely had time to say before he pushed against the window one more time and it finally opened. He fell unceremoniously onto Toris' desk, scattering papers and pens everywhere. The back of his head slammed against the windowsill, sending a wave of black spots and fantasized colours over his eyes.

Raivis laid there for a moment, blinking quickly to try and clear up his eyes. Everything hurt, but he wasn't on the snowy yard with a broken back, so there was some good to come out of this. Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes and started looking around for Toris.

"You're not on the ground dead, right?" Feliks asked, although Raivis barely registered it.

He was too focused on the person lying on the floor with a bloody head wound.

"Toris?" Raivis called out, suddenly forgetting all of his hatred for his big brother. "Are you…?" He got off the desk, falling down by the Lithuanian's side. Without thinking he checked for a pulse – only to find nothing.

"Toris! Wake up!" In a panic he put his head to Toris' chest, almost cheering when he heard a faint heartbeat. Strange, a simple wound wasn't enough to drag Toris this close to death. There was something much more than the head wound behind this.

"What are you screaming about?! Raivis, open the door!"

"I don't know if you want to see this," Raivis replied weakly, wiping at the blood on his brother's head. Even he didn't want to see this.

"Open up!" Feliks shouted, slamming his fists on the door.

Reluctantly, Raivis got to his feet and twisted the lock. "Feliks, you really shouldn't –" Raivis started as Feliks pushed past him, going right to Toris.

"Oh, my God," he gasped, putting a hand to the bloody mess on Toris' forehead. "Is he…? Toris? Can you hear me?"

"Yes, he's alive."

Feliks looked back up at Raivis, not even seeming as distraught as the boy expected he would be. "Raivis, stay with him. I'm going to go get some things."

"Okay," Raivis said confusedly, watching as Feliks left the room. Why wasn't he upset? The normal Feliks would've been in hysterics already. Something was really wrong – not just with Toris, but with Feliks. Maybe it was the whole "tomorrow's my day to die" thing. He'd just been up and down in the past few days, with no real set mood.

Raivis sat down next to Toris, avoiding looking at the bloody disaster. Instead he looked at the man's hands, noticing something held in his stiff fingers. Slowly he pried the little thing out; he held it up just to make sure it was what he thought it was.

The boy put all the pieces together.

"Hey, Feliks?" he called. "I found something!"

* * *

 **A/N: Oh, a mystery! (Not really a big one but who cares…)**

 **This chapter is named after a lyric in David Bowie's song "Space Oddity." You should seriously try listening to it. It tells an interesting story. Rest in peace, Starman.**

 **Guys, Naka-Kon is in one week. For anyone who's not currently in the Midwestern Kansas area (i.e. all of you) there will be a regular chapter on that Saturday at the regular time, courtesy of my mother. Seriously, if you can make it, come to Naka-Kon and find me! Unless of course you hate this story and want to crush my dreams…Then preferably don't. I'm a fragile person.**

 **Thank you to my dear Holy Trio –** SoulEleri **,** Seele Esser Deutsch **, and** Comix and Co **! Oh, and my so not smooth guest reviewer,** AusHun **.**

 **I don't want to tell you how many chapters we have left, but I'll tell you the number's fewer than five.**

 **I hope to see some of you at Naka-Kon! Please, come find the Russia wandering around with the Belarus and will probably be making bad jokes to each other. Oh, and the Russia is just a tad bit shorter than the Belarus (everyone with siblings who are younger than them yet taller than them will know this pain.)**

 **See you all next chapter!**


	30. Death Waltz

"What were you even thinking?" Raivis asked in a quiet voice, his words tinged with fury. He wanted to be screaming right now, but he was a bit afraid of what Toris' reaction would be. So he decided to keep his voice calm in a vain hope that wouldn't enrage the man.

"I didn't mean for this to happen," Toris admitted, tapping the bloodied bandages wrapped around his head. Was that actual repentance Raivis heard? No, it couldn't be. He was just acting like he was sorry again, feigning innocence solely for the sake of appearance. "That was a total accident. I didn't really think it would hurt that bad, like bad enough to make you pass out bad. And I sort of caught my head on the corner of my desk when I blacked out."

"Oh, sort of?" Raivis mocked, crossing his arms like a frustrated parent. "Is a gash seven centimeters long 'sort of?'"

"Well, yes. Considering what could've been done, that is 'sort of,' per say."

"Couldn't you have just waited or something? Did you really have to do that today? I mean, what would you have done if it _did_ kill you instantly? More importantly, why couldn't it wait until tomorrow?"

Toris shook his head, forest green eyes looking away from Raivis ashamedly. "I didn't want the glitch to happen. I had to make sure everything was going to work."

Strange, he was honestly acting like the person he was before the war. _Did something slip when he hit his head?_ Raivis asked himself. _Who even is this person? I'm almost scared for his sake. Is he trying to work this angle? He must be. I can't let him get to me through that nice attitude._

"The glitch is only a one in five chance. You have better odds to have it totally destroy your immortality complex than for it to miss," Raivis explained with a bit of a condescending edge to his voice. "You scared all of us."

"I didn't mean to! I was just hoping you'd look at me and say, 'he was a bastard anyway.' I didn't think you'd all freak out and try to actually _save_ me! You all hate me, and the minute something happens you love me again! I mean, one moment you wouldn't care if the Russians tore me to pieces, and the next you're acting like I'm your favourite person in the whole world."

"But why did you do it?" Raivis asked. "Wouldn't you rather take the honourable route of letting the Russians kill you? What would we have done if you really…you know…died?" He tried to hide the nervousness in his voice – the actual concern he had for the Lithuanian. The brotherly instinct always seemed to kick in at the wrong moment, resulting in worries that Raivis didn't even want to have.

"Is that worry for me I hear?" Toris asked, flashing the boy a devious grin. "Someone's rather concerned about me," he said in a sing-song voice.

"No, I'm not. I hate you, remember?" Now it was Raivis' turn to look away, his face growing redder by the second.

"It's okay to say that you love me. We _are_ brothers."

"Whatever. I was just afraid. It's unsettling to see someone you think is dead on the floor."

"But you should've been ecstatic if you hate me so much."

Raivis glared back at Toris, trying to appear intimidating. However, when his face was bright red and Toris automatically was daunting without even trying, he didn't come close to scaring the Lithuanian. "What would you know about things like this?"

"Oh, plenty," Toris replied. "It's okay, I'm not going to ask you anymore. Anyways, I don't think I have the glitch. Is your chest supposed to hurt like hell?"

"Lukas compared it to a bloody eagle," Raivis said quietly.

"Oh, that Viking thing? God, those guys were insane. And when did you talk to Lukas?"

"A while back. He was worried about me."

"Lukas, worried? And about you?" Toris asked in disbelief, looking over at the Latvian.

"It was mostly for Eduard because Tino wanted to check on him. Those two are…well…were…like…" Raivis' voice faltered, the boy forcing back his emotions. "Brothers. Yes, that's what I was trying to say. Brothers. But Lukas wanted to make sure I was okay," he added. "I thought I was nice that someone even cared about me. Most of the time everyone forgets I'm here."

"I don't forget you're here. Don't I count?"

" _Eduard_ didn't forget I was here! And he didn't smash my skull in! He actually _loved_ me, unlike you. You're just playing some sick game to try and get me to like you and save whatever pathetic excuse of a life you have left before the Russians get to you!" Raivis shot back, putting a hand over his mouth as soon as he'd said it.

"You shouldn't get so upset about Eduard," Toris said, returning back to that man Raivis wished he didn't know. He'd already broken his façade, and it hadn't been more than three minutes.

"Well, you shouldn't have killed him."

"Well, he shouldn't have been a bloody traitor," Toris snapped back.

"You didn't have to go to those levels. That was just outright –"

Raivis suddenly found himself pinned up against the wall, held in place by two strong hands and a case of déjà vu. He could already see what was going to happen next – a snapped neck, a broken jaw, a radium shot. Although Toris had been conscious for a little less than fifteen minutes, he was already back at full strength. The Latvian didn't even stand a remote chance against his big brother. There wasn't any use in fighting against him.

And then he remembered something. Something absolutely wonderful came to mind as he was held against that wall.

"I know what levels are necessary to go to, and don't tell me I don't know these things. You, my dearest _Latvia,_ " Toris snarled, pushing down harder on the boy's chest. But Raivis wasn't afraid anymore. "Have no idea what really is right and wrong here. You're just ignorant."

"You're not going to kill me now, are you?" Raivis asked, looking up at Toris a bit uncertainly.

"I see you've lost your stutter."

Raivis shook his head. "I'm just not that afraid. You're human right now, I'm not."

Toris slowly dropped the boy, realizing that he was right. He hadn't actually put much more thought into it than ending his life, but he didn't think about what would happen if he didn't die. It was almost a little frightening now to think of himself as a real human – no immortality. There was this certain feeling he just found, a real down-to-Earth fear he'd never felt before. He was a real man, and he could die. Now there were no second chances.

Death hadn't ever been this terrifying.

"What exactly are you planning on doing tonight?" Raivis seemed to have recovered from Toris' outburst quite quickly, not even the slightest hint of a tremble in his hands.

"I don't really know what I'm doing. It's a sort of horribly put together plan that probably won't work," Toris answered, still trying to grasp the fact that he was a _human._

"Oh, right," Raivis said rather nonchalantly. "Feliks isn't here right now. He went on another walk or something after we found you."

"Seriously? He's going to make me go find him?" Toris asked quietly, trying not to show how really frightened he was of being normal.

"You could wait until he comes back," the boy suggested.

"Latvia, darling, humans don't have time," Toris said in a mocking voice, grabbing his coat and pulling it on. "You know, sometimes I really wish I would've killed you. I could've solved twice my problems if I would've killed both you and Eduard that night. But I didn't. I only got the more frustrating one." Toris went back over to Raivis, putting a hand on the side of the boy's face. "I saved you because I loved you. I never realized how complicated human-nation relationships can become."

"Shut up."

"But it's true, isn't it?"

"You know what's so great about humans, _Lithuania?_ " Raivis smiled, pushing Toris away from him. He was the bigger person now. Toris couldn't push the Latvian around anymore, as he was a human and Raivis was still a country. It felt rather strange to be in different positions now, but Raivis liked the feeling of superiority. He'd never been in power before.

"What?"

"They can die."

* * *

Volkov pulled the covers over his head, silently willing the Swiss to leave. He knew if he said anything, it would give Basch the fire to continue on with whatever annoying thing he decided to do, so he had to keep quiet. But God, there were just moments where he wanted to start screaming at the top of his lungs. Moments where all he wanted to do was smother Basch in his sleep or put him in front of a firing squad or practice various forms of torture on him – anything to make the man shut up.

"Rise and shine, Commander Volkov! It's almost nine, we have to move!" Basch announced, giving Volkov a hard slap on the back to try and get him moving. He _knew_ that enraged Volkov more than most irritating things the Swiss did. "Do you know what that means?"

Again, Volkov forced himself not to reply. A reply meant more irritation. And maybe, just maybe if he was quiet enough, Basch would go away.

"We're going to kill two people tomorrow. And it's going to be great. But you're not going to be getting anywhere by sleeping."

"Will you just leave him alone?" Sevastian groaned from somewhere in Volkov's room – he wasn't supposed to be in here either. Did those two just think they had permission to go waltzing through their commander's private bedroom? Basch was already in here on a daily basis to mess with the man, but Volkov expected better out of Sevastian.

"We've been awake for two hours. Why should he get to sleep in? I'm calling bullshit on this!" Basch gave Volkov another hard slap. Come on, Sleeping Beauty! Get your lazy ass up before I drag you out of bed!"

"Why do you think this is acceptable?! I'm your _commanding officer!"_ Volkov roared, unable to keep silent anymore. He threw off the warm blankets, standing up just so he could look down on Basch. That was the one advantage Volkov had over the man – height. "What do you think you're doing in my room?"

"Following orders?" Basch asked, refusing to look up at Volkov. He too knew their height difference well, as Basch only came up to right under the Russian's heart.

"What sort of orders are these?"

"Excuse me, sir," Sevastian interrupted, stepping between Basch and the furious Volkov. "We were awoken some time ago and told to prepare to move out. They're going to move us tonight. I was trying to wake you up and then Basch said that he could do it. I didn't mean to make you angry."

Volkov took a deep breath, realizing Sevastian had just made a mistake and was not intentionally trying to torment him. "It's fine, you don't need to apologize. What do we have left to do?"

"Actually, we were all kind of waiting for you," Sevastian said, looking away from Volkov. "But that's okay. Oh, and can I borrow your phone? We're not allowed to make any more calls after we leave."

"Who are you calling?" Volkov asked, grabbing his phone from its place next to a copy of the battle plans. He handed it over to Sevastian.

"My family. I don't want them to worry. Thank you, sir."

"It's no trouble," Volkov said, watching as Sevastian left his room. The colonel was trembling as he punched in the phone number, his hands barely able to hold the phone. Was he still startled by Volkov's outburst a moment ago? For being in the military, that man was sure jumpy.

"Get moving," Basch snarled. "I don't want to wait any longer because of you."

"What, are you itching to kill someone? Stop being such a homicidal maniac," Volkov replied, giving Basch a gentle shove.

"I want revenge. I want it really, really, _really_ bad. So yes, I am itching to kill someone." Basch lost his sarcastic tone, his voice growing dark. "I want to see them die. And I want my brothers back."

"That's nice," Volkov sighed, buttoning up his shirt. He'd grown so used to Basch's violent comments that he completely brushed that last one off.

"Whatever. You're just saying that. You have no idea how this feels."

"Oh, sorry I don't know what it feels like to wish for someone to be dead so badly. Perhaps that's because I'm a good person?"

Basch laughed a bit, turning back from the Russian. "Good person, my ass. Anyone who's fighting in the damned war isn't even close to being considered good. Now, will you hurry up?"

"Shut up. If you would leave me alone, I could actually get something done."

Basch shook his head, finally leaving Volkov by himself. The Russian gave a loud sigh, falling back on his bed. Today was the day they were going to go into the real combat zones. Their whole path to Szczecin had been nothing but an easy trip. But now they were going to fight – a real battle, one where they would probably not come home with several men.

Volkov hadn't ever been this afraid of a military mission.

All his adult life he'd been trained for battle, fighting in many major ones and even leading a few. But this operation felt much more different – after all, Operation Circus already had so much going against it. There was just something about the plans; something that felt like this was going to be a failure. Volkov trusted Sevastian and his scheme, but sometimes he did stop and wonder what was really going to happen. Was he going to be dead tomorrow morning? He was only twenty-eight, way too young to die.

"Hey, can you let me talk to your mother?" Sevastian asked as Volkov stepped out of his room, momentarily confusing the man. And then he remembered Sevastian was on the phone and not asking Volkov odd questions.

"Hello, Marya," Sevastian said quietly, glancing over at Volkov. "I'm sorry for calling so late. I just wanted to tell you that I'm not allowed to contact you anymore after tonight. But I'll call you the minute I can. …What? No, I wanted to tell you goodbye before we head off to the battle. …Yes, this probably is endangering our mission." Sevastian started to choke up, nearly on the verge of crying. "This… This may be the last time you hear from me… I'm sorry, I can't do anything about it. It's going to be fate's decision… Don't tell them about this, okay? They don't need to worry about me."

The little colonel was crying now, tears trailing down his cheekbones. He took off his circle-rimmed glasses, wiping at the tears with the back of his hand. "I don't know if I'll come home alive," he whispered.

Volkov went over to Sevastian, putting one arm around the man. He gently took the phone from Sevastian's hand, letting the colonel cry into his chest.

"Hello? This is Sevastian's wife, I presume," Volkov said.

"What happened to my husband?" The woman asked, sounding like she too was crying.

"He had to take care of some things." Volkov looked down at Sevastian, ruffling the man's dark hair. "But anyway, I'm his commanding officer, Lieutenant General Volkov. Listen, my top priority is to keep this man safe. I can promise you he's going to come back to you perfectly fine. The enemy's going to have to kill me first."

"Sir, I appreciate what you're doing, but don't you have a family to go back to?"

Volkov thought for a moment, trying to remember if he really had any family to care about. His father was dead, his mother was a traitor and went right back to Poland, he'd never cared for his little brother and the man was probably dead anyway, and he only had uncles, who were all Polish-Lithuanian spies or dead. There really wasn't anyone for him to go back to, save for his girlfriend. And did she even remember he existed?

"That's not of your concern right now. I'm going to make sure Sevastian comes back to you the minute he can. His life obviously means much more than mine," Volkov replied.

"What makes you say such things?" Sevatian's wife's voice gave away that she was concerned for the stranger on the other end of the phone line.

"I don't have family like Sevastian does. And besides, who's going to miss someone like me?"

"Stop that," Sevastian said, reaching for the phone. Volkov let him take it, pulling the small man close.

"Hey, Marya, sorry. Listen, I really ought to be going… Yes. I love you, Marya. Don't forget that ever." And with that, Sevastian hung up and handed the phone back to Volkov.

"Will you stay here while I call what's left of my family?" Volkov asked, smiling a bit at Sevastian's obvious embarrassment.

"I guess," he replied, watching as Volkov scrolled through his contacts and selected one listed as Amaliya. Volkov put the phone up to his ear, pulling Sevastian closer.

"Hello?" The voice that picked up said sleepily – she'd probably been working all day.

"Hi, Amaliya, its' me. Sorry to call so late," Volkov apologized. "But we're about to head into the danger zone and all that, and I had a question for you."

"Ziven? What…no, why haven't you called me for so long?!"

"I'm on a dangerous mission. I didn't want you to be part of this."

Amaliya sighed loudly, absolutely exasperated with her boyfriend of so many years. "What do you want?"

"Are you okay with marrying a soon-to-be dead man?" Volkov asked, glancing down at Sevastian.

"I'm…I'm sorry, what?" She stammered, her voice growing softer with every word until Volkov could hear nothing but a whisper and phone static.

"Amaliya, will you marry me?"

* * *

Raivis waited patiently for what seemed like centuries at the top of the stairs, occupying himself by looking at the wooden banister and finding shapes in the swirls. And once he'd found every hidden sheep or monster, he took to pushing random objects down the staircase. After Raivis shoved everything in reach down to the last step, he finally gave up with entertaining himself and looked up at the ceiling.

Normally, Raivis would've given up on waiting and gone off somewhere. But he was determined to figure out what Toris was planning. It had something to do with alcohol, dancing, and a cassette tape. Now, if only he could connect all of those things together. It was like a puzzle of sorts; something Raivis was never good with. He always lost a few pieces or spent hours trying to figure out where one simple piece went.

What could possibly be taking Toris so long? Feliks was still in the camp – how hard could finding one Polish man in an enclosed area possibly be? Not to mention that Feliks naturally attracted attention to himself.

But finally, just as Raivis was ready to give up and go back to his room, the front door opened. In walked Feliks and Toris, the two looking much closer with the other than they had in a long time. Their hands were laced together, talking in quick Polish – which Raivis still couldn't understand. It was probably for that exact reason, as Toris had said they were going to be, "talking about adult things that little nations shouldn't listen to."

Who did Toris think he was, trying to tell Raivis that he was a little boy? Toris was the human here, not Raivis. Raivis should be the one ordering Toris about.

Toris led Feliks down the hallway, disappearing into the kitchen. Raivis could still hear their rapid conversation, barely able to string together enough Polish words to comprehend what they were saying. He caught "end" and "patch" and "love," so he presumed this was Toris' last-ditch effort to find someone that still loved him. The Latvian had to hand it to Toris; working through Feliks was a rather brilliant idea. But still, he was so desperate it was almost disgusting.

But he couldn't deny the fact that he hoped Feliks and Toris would get back together.

Raivis still had a love for his big brother buried deep inside of him, hidden behind all the hatred and revengeful feelings for Eduard. He still remembered that man that kept him safe in the Soviet Union. He still remembered his gentle voice. He still remembered the way Toris tried to keep everyone together even in the worst of times.

And unfortunately, memories don't fade as easy as Raivis would've liked.

Raivis stood up from his spot on the stairs, trudging up to his bedroom. He didn't really know what he was doing – this was the case most of the time – but he locked the door behind him, drew the curtains closed, and collapsed onto his bed. For a while he just listened to the faint murmur of conversation from downstairs, staring up at the ceiling blankly. The Latvian couldn't distinguish who was talking, but he could pick out who was laughing and the music that was playing.

As he listened, he got this strange lump in his throat. And then his nose felt all strange. Before he knew what was happening, sobs were racking his chest and tears trailed down from his eyes.

He buried his face in his pillow, trying to control his own crying. Why was he even in tears? All he'd been doing was listening to the two downstairs and spacing out. There was nothing this heart-wrenching about that.

Or was there?

 _It's Toris' death waltz. His last dance before the end. And here I am, up in my room, too angry with him to even go down and try and fix anything. He always taught me to forgive everyone. Shouldn't those same rules apply here?_ Raivis asked himself as he cried.

 _This is the man who killed Eduard, though. There's no going back from that._

 _But he's still my brother!_ Raivis had unintentionally struck up a mental argument with himself.

 _A brother who's murdered thousands and killed his own sibling. Who knows, he could be out for me. I could not even wake up tomorrow._

 _I still should love him._

He couldn't be sure how long this ping-pong style fight went on in his head, but he had long stopped sobbing when he gave up. One glance at the clock told him he'd been doing this for over an hour. A whole hour of nothing but deciding how much Toris was really worth. What had he come to?

Raivis sat up, trying to sort out his emotions. He was so confused – what side of him was actually right? They both had strong arguments. Really, it was a matter of morals. The Latvian had the choice to go with what the world thought was right and completely ignore Toris, or go with that little part of him that told him to always forgive.

Wiping at his eyes with the heel of his hand, Raivis decided that he couldn't hold a grudge against a dead man. He was going to patch things up with Toris, right now. No longer were they going to be mortal enemies.

Raivis almost ran downstairs, taking the steps two at a time. But when he reached the doorway, his rush came to a complete stop and the tears threatened to reappear.

Toris and Feliks were holding each other like they were about to be torn apart forever. Two glasses with vodka in them sat on the table, presumably half empty. One of those old songs the two seemed to like so much was playing; probably from that cassette tape Feliks had found in his pocket a few days ago. Toris was making his best attempt at leading Feliks in a dance. It was a rather sorry excuse for dancing, but it obviously meant something more than what Raivis was seeing.

Something _much_ more.

Even Raivis could see it in the way the two were so close – it was love. Toris had either finally made up his mind on who he really cared for, or he was faking this. But he wouldn't go to such levels. This was a real, honest to God attempt at getting Feliks back. Although he was being helped slightly by vodka and memories, the majority of everything came from Toris. He was making his best tries just for Feliks; his best attempt at dancing, at being romantic, at everything.

And it was, in a rather strange and messed up way, beautiful.

 _Absolutely beautiful._

* * *

"Hey, can I borrow that one?" Gilbert asked, pointing to the German Shepherd that was already by the fence wagging his tail.

"Do you want to get shot?"

Gilbert rolled his eyes, pulling out the paper Ivan had made him and shoved it into the guard's chest. The man looked over the letter for just a moment before saying, "Laurinaitis must've completely lost his mind. Did he really write this?"

"Is he the joking type?"

The guard thought about that for a moment, handing the paper back to Gilbert. "I swear to God, that man's insane."

"Well, ja. Now, give me the dog. It has to be that one," Gilbert demanded, watching as Vytautas' eyes lit up and his fluffy tail swept back and forth faster and faster.

"He doesn't like people that much. Liable to tear your throat out if you turn around. Are you sure you don't want a gentler one?" The guard asked, opening the gate to the dog pen. Vytautas bounded up to him, nearly knocking the man down to get to Gilbert. He tackled the Prussian in an instant, licking at his face and panting happily. He knew Gilbert meant Ludwig was going to be nearby.

"Down, Vytautas!" Gilbert ordered, pushing the dog off of him. The guard that he'd given the forged letter just stood there and stared – he was expecting Gilbert to be dead in a moment. "Thank you, sir," Gilbert said and gave the man a little wave. And with that, he walked back towards the barracks.

Vytautas led the way back, not Gilbert. The dog knew exactly where Ludwig was. Gilbert had to run to keep up with Vytautas, trying to slow the German Shepherd down before he bolted right into Cell Block 7 and ruined the whole surprise. Right before Vytautas ran inside, Gilbert grabbed the dog by his collar and somehow managed to hold him back.

"You have to stay here," Gilbert said, stepping in front of the dog. "Got it? Stay."

Vytautas whined.

"No, don't try that with me. I'm no softie. Now, you stay here."

He tried to go inside, but Vytautas was right at his heels.

"No." Gilbert turned around, giving the dog a glare. "Stay."

Vytautas looked up at him with his dark brown eyes, lowering his ears. He started whining again. Could Gilbert really say no to that cute face?

"I'm telling you, you have to stay." Gilbert pushed down on Vytautas' haunches, trying to force him into a sitting position. After much struggling, the dog finally gave in and sat down in the snow.

"Good boy. Now, if you stay, you'll get to see Ludwig."

That was the wrong word to use. Now Vytautas was back on his feet, jumping up at Gilbert and yipping happily. It took a few minutes to get the German Shepherd calmed down again, and another minute or so to get him to sit down again. But eventually, he got the dog to stay without following him anymore, although it did take almost getting his fingers bit off.

"What took you so long?" Ivan asked as Gilbert came into the barrack, making sure to shut the door behind him.

"You would not believe how uncooperative some things can be," Gilbert answered. He came over to their small group huddled around the heater, trying not to give away anything to Ludwig. "So, who are we going to start with?"

"Why not you?" Ludwig gave his brother a shove. "You suggested the idea."

"Oh, really? Luddy, I'm touched. To think that you really do love me." Gilbert put a hand to his chest mockingly.

"So, Gilbert, I've been thinking things over," Yao said abruptly, startling the Prussian. "And I really think Ivan and I are in love. If both of us survive this war, we are going to run away from our countries and get married. You're all invited to the wedding, of course. Then we'll live out our lives together somewhere where nobody will ever find us."

"Ha! So you did admit it! Wait…what? You're not serious, are you?" Gilbert went from shouting to complete confusion when he registered that last line.

"We're dead serious." Ivan smiled, pulling Yao closer.

"No, no you're not," Gilbert stammered, trying to figure out if they were toying with him or not. Ivan's face usually was bright red whenever the subject was brought up, but he seemed as normal as could be right now. These weren't their actual life plans, were they?

"Oh, yes, we are. And we'd thought we'd tell you tonight because you said you wanted us to admit it for Christmas." Yao looked up at Ivan, giving him a grin.

"How could I ever resist something like you?" Ivan asked, kissing Yao's forehead. Yao pulled Ivan in for a passionate kiss, putting his arms around the man's neck while Ivan ran his hands up the Chinese's back.

At this point, Ivan, being the lovable bear of a man that he was, completely lost it. He broke away from Yao, laughing so hard he was nearly in tears. Before long Yao was laughing, his face tinged with red.

"Oh, God, do you think I could actually spend the rest of my life with him?" Ivan managed in between fits of hysterics.

"We're just good friends," Yao said, giving Ivan a playful shove. "Way to go, you ruined the whole thing for him. Did you see the look on his face?"

"It was perfect!"

"Thank you, that was very sweet," Gilbert added, wondering how long it took them to get through that whole thing without laughing. Surely it had taken them hours of practice.

"Merry Christmas, Gilbert," Ivan said, ruffling Yao's hair. "I promise we're never going to get married."

"Sorry we can't all be as exciting as that display," Ludwig said, handing Gilbert something wrapped in old cloth from a uniform.

Gilbert took it from his brother, slowly opening the strange little package. In it he found a gleaming little can with Polish words on the label. He couldn't recognize any of the words, but he had a vague idea as to what was inside.

"Where did you find beer?" Gilbert asked, holding the can close to his chest.

Ivan looked at Ludwig, who then turned to Roderich. Roderich merely shrugged. "We simply went and asked for it."

"Did you bribe a guard or something?"

"No, we asked Toris."

Gilbert looked at the three of them, wondering who was injected with radium. It couldn't be Roderich, and Ivan probably would've been dead already with both radium and the radiation poisoning in his leg, so that only left one.

"Ludwig? Do you have something to tell me?" Gilbert bit his lip, praying that Ludwig wasn't already dying.

"Merry Christmas?" Ludwig said uncertainly. "What more do you want?"

"No. You didn't…you know…get the radium, right?"

Ludwig shook his head. "Strangest thing, Toris actually let us have it. And all because Ivan gave that cassette tape back."

"Weird. Well, thank –" Gilbert started to say, before he was interrupted by a horrid scratching sound and whining.

"What's that?" Ludwig got up, going over to the door.

"No! Please, don't open the door!" Gilbert begged, grabbing for his brother's leg.

But it was too late.

The millisecond the door was opened enough for a beast like Vytautas to fit through, he ran inside and knocked Ludwig to the ground. Ludwig, at first put his hands up to his throat, mistaking Vytautas for a real guard dog, and then realized that it was him. In a moment, Ludwig was scratching Vytautas behind the ears and laughing as the dog lapped at his face.

"That thing's back?" Roderich snapped.

"Hey, it makes Luddy happy," Gilbert shot back, smiling as he watched Ludwig wrestle Vytautas off of him.

"Speaking of happy things, don't you have something to tell Ludwig, Roderich?" Yao asked, looking over at the Austrian expectantly.

"Don't ruin the mood, Yao. He's fine just the way he is."

* * *

 _So this is goodbye._

 _Ludwig pulled the black cloak over his shoulders, taking a final look at his reflection. A young boy, physically no older than ten, looked back. His pale blue eyes that still hadn't seen the horrors of warfare looked over every detail, making sure all was in order. With a hand that hadn't ever killed a man, he brushed back a few stray strands of blond._

 _It was so strange to look in a mirror and see a perfect replica of him, only outwardly appearing much younger. This boy could've been Ludwig's twin. Actually, he might be. Elizabeta was supposed to tell him everything today. She promised to leave absolutely nothing out of the story – to tell him the_ whole _truth._

 _Ludwig glanced back at the boy's room, making sure he hadn't left anything valuable. But the bedroom had been stripped of everything that he could take with him, which wasn't really a lot. He'd done so many things in this room; found out so much about himself, that it was rather hard to leave. So, with a bit of a heavy heart, he left the room and marched downstairs._

 _"Good morning, Ludwig," Roderich said as the boy came into the dining room. This was the last time he'd ever tell his son good morning. The Austrian was obviously thinking the same thing, but trying hard not to show it._

 _"Good morning, little ally," Ivan called from the hallway, carrying a pile of Holy Rome's things. "Hurry up and eat so you can help me."_

 _"Where's Elizabeta?" Ludwig asked, sitting down at his usual spot. Strange, Feli – or should he say Feliciano – wasn't awake yet. Or maybe he was, but was avoiding him. Why did Feliciano have to be entangled in this mess as well?_

 _"Probably helping Ivan."_

 _"I'm right here," Elizabeta said, walking into the room. "Did you need something?"_

 _Ludwig looked at Elizabeta, motioning to himself. She lost her smile, taking a step away from Ludwig. "Right." Her whole voice had been swallowed up by the fear. "I'll get back to you on that."_

 _"Is Feli around?" Ludwig asked, looking away from Elizabeta. He'd completely forgotten that this was her last day._

 _"She's helping us outside."_

 _"What?" Ludwig stood up so quickly his chair fell over. "She's too fragile to be doing that! Roderich, I have to go help her."_

 _"Suit yourself," Roderich sighed, holding a hand over his mouth. From the cracks between his fingers, Ludwig could see the little lines of blood, snaking their way down his neck._

 _"Again?" Elizabeta went over to Roderich's side, fussing over him like a mother hen. "Ludwig, you can go. I'll catch up with you in a moment."_

 _Without another word, Ludwig went out on his search for Feliciano. He wasn't that hard to find – as he was on Ivan's shoulders while the man loaded things into a cart._

 _"Hey, Feli!" Ludwig called, running up to Ivan. Feliciano waved down at him, a huge smile on his face._

 _"Good morning, Luddy!" Ivan bent down, letting the boy off. "Are you here to help?"_

 _"Ja." Although his real intentions were to burn time until Elizabeta got around to talking to him and make sure Feliciano wasn't hurt, he did want to help._

 _They worked for several hours, the two little ones carrying armfuls of supplies and such things while Ivan picked up stacks of crates taller than Feliciano was. By the time they finished, the sun was just about in the middle of the sky. Ludwig couldn't help but wonder how Ivan wasn't dying of heatstroke – he kept his scarf on the whole time they worked._

 _"Very good work, little ones," Ivan sighed, falling back against one of the carts. "_ Spasibo."

 _"What?" Feliciano asked, climbing up on the cart to sit next to where Ivan was standing._

 _"It means 'thank you' in my country."_

 _"_ Spasibo, _" Feliciano repeated, a tiny smile crossing his face. "That sounds funny._ Spasibo."

 _"Well,_ grazie _sounds quite funny to me." Ivan gave the boy a playful nudge._

"Spasibo, _" Feliciano giggled._

"Grazie."

 _"What are you three doing?" Elizabeta said, walking right up to Ivan._

"Spasibo!" _Feliciano cheered._

 _"We're discussing languages," Ivan explained, ruffling Feliciano's ruddy hair. "And she thinks my language is strange sounding."_

 _"Well, it is. No offense, Ivan," Ludwig apologized, fearing what the Russian would do if he got angry enough._

 _"Oh, and you people have nice languages?"_

 _"Nicer than_ spasibo," _Feli taunted._

 _"Much nicer than_ spasibo," _Ludwig added._

 _Ivan crossed his arms, pretending to be upset. "Fine. Since you think my language is so strange, I'll just have to take over Holy Rome so you can learn to love it."_

 _"No!" Feliciano shouted. "You can't take over Holy Rome!"_

 _"Oh, I can. Watch me do it right now." Ivan grabbed Ludwig, putting his arms under the boy's so he couldn't escape. "Look at this, Russia's captured Holy Rome. Now they will all have to speak Russian."_

 _"No! Anything but that!" Feliciano kicked at Ivan to try and free Ludwig, but that did nothing._

 _"Now, Ludwig, say '_ da, gospodin Rossiya! Vy samaya sil'naya strana kogda-libo!'"

" _What?"_

 _"Yes, mister Russia!" Ivan translated. "You are the strongest country ever!"_

 _"Listen, this is sweet and all, but I really need to talk to Ludwig," Elizabeta huffed, trying to pry Ludwig out of Ivan's arms._

 _"What's the password?" Ivan asked with a smirk._

 _Elizabeta frowned, pressing her lips into a thin white line. "Ivan, I am not kidding. I need to see him."_

 _"No, you don't. Password!"_

 _"Is it_ spasibo?"

 _Ivan dropped Ludwig, the boy landing hard on the ground. He could've sworn that was just Gilbert's voice that he heard. Slowly Ludwig got to his feet, looking around for the Prussian. Sure enough, Gilbert came walking up to the group like he'd never left._

 _"What's_ he _doing here?" Gilbert asked, gesturing to Ivan._

 _"I'm his ally," Ivan snarled._

 _"Oh, so they're letting you go out to war with a bear? Very good," Gilbert said to Ludwig, looking over the boy. "You better watch yourself, Luddy. Next thing you know you'll wake up with a knife in your back."_

 _"Why are you here?" Elizabeta's voice had gone quiet again._

 _Gilbert shrugged. "A little bird told me that Luddy was leaving for war. Thought I'd come and say goodbye."_

 _"That's nice," Ivan snapped, pulling Ludwig close to him. "Surprised you weren't hungover this morning and forgot."_

 _"Ha, ha, that's_ hilarious."

 _"It's the truth."_

 _"Can we stop this?" Elizabeta asked, stepping between Ivan and Gilbert. They kept glaring at each other, looking like they wanted to strangle the other. "We're not going to make a big scene right before he has to leave."_

 _"Which is now." Basch joined their little party outside with Lilli at his side. "Roderich said the kid has to leave right now."_

 _"But he can't! I still need to talk to him!" Elizabeta turned to face the Swiss, her eyes wild._

 _"He has to go. Right now."_

* * *

 **A/N: Do not fret, my dears, this is a two-part dream. It's just so big it had to be broken in half. I didn't want a whole chunk of dream taking up the story.**

 **I hope you get this on time – my mother is posting it. So if you finally get the little email thing saying this chapter was posted at ten o'clock tonight, I'm sorry. She's a bit forgetful sometimes.**

 **Thank you to** ILoveSprinklesOnMyToast **, the guest reviewer** FlamingFyre **,** Shokoko **, and my dear Holy Trio –** Seele Esser Deutsch **,** SoulEleri **, and** Comix and Co **!**

 **Hopefully, I'm seeing some of you at Naka-Kon. I don't know yet, as I'm writing this on Friday night at like, eleven something. Woo! Procrastination! But hopefully there's some of you, just one or two, who come and talk to me.**

 **See you all next chapter!**


	31. Silent Night

**A/N: This chapter is for my dear uncle. I presume he wouldn't be proud of this story, being the man that he was, but he'd like the fact that I'd dedicate something to him. He'd probably laugh.**

 **I know I've been toying around with suicide for a while now, but I assure you, it is no joke. I've lost my uncle, someone very close to me, because of it. Suicide is something I would never put in a humorous light. It affects thousands of people, whether you see it or not.**

 **It is an author's job to let you see into their characters' minds – many perspectives on life that I write down are not my own. If I did that, this story wouldn't be even mildly interesting. Because I show you what others think, you get a real story and not my opinions on how things should be.**

 **This being said this chapter contains suicide. You've been warned; continue along at your own risk.**

* * *

 _"Isn't there any way I can stay? Even for a just a few more hours?"_

 _Roderich knelt down, the sharp pains in his chest increasing with every little movement. He wanted to cry out and scream, but he had to appear strong for the boy. That boy was his son – the boy that was not coming home, the boy who was not going to see his father for a very long time. For a moment he studied Holy Rome, knowing all too well that he was never going to see him again. He'd like to believe that Holy Rome would come back alive with plenty of war stories and a bright smile, but that was not the case._

 _The Austrian couldn't even lie to himself._

 _"I'm so sorry," he apologized quietly, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder. "But your country has been warring for hundreds of years. I've kept you at the house in a faint hope that the fighting would end and you'd be spared. However, I was wrong." Roderich could see the shift in Ludwig's eyes, the flash of frustration with his father. "It's time for you to go now. I've kept you here too long."_

 _"There's nothing you can do?" Ludwig asked, looking to Roderich for any sort of answer. Roderich had to look away – how was he supposed to face his own son's inevitable death?_

 _"There's nothing." Roderich pulled the boy into a hug, wishing that he would never have to let go. "I love you, Holy Rome. I'm sorry for how I've treated you. I know you hate me, but please, don't stay mad at me."_

 _"I don't hate you," Ludwig sighed. "Even if you did try to murder me, I still don't hate you."_

 _"Thank you. I love you, Holy Rome." He kissed the boy's forehead, blinking back tears._

 _"I love you too, Roderich," Ludwig said numbly. He wasn't used to displays of emotions from Roderich._

 _Roderich let him go, barely able to breathe as the pain kept growing and growing. His empire was falling to pieces, ravaging his heart, and there was nothing he could do about it. The only thing to do was stand there and watch his beloved Holy Rome go off to a hopeless war. Soon, hopefully very soon, everything would be over._

 _"Goodbye, Ludwig. Don't ruin everything," Basch said with a sigh, tousling the boy's hair. He too recognized what was going to happen, but kept his composure much better than his older brother._

 _Lilli, on the other hand, couldn't bear to even look at the boy. She was in tears as she hugged Ludwig goodbye, trying to reassure him that he was going to be fine._

 _And then came that demon child, Gilbert._

 _Roderich couldn't believe that man had the nerve to show up to this. Yes, he was Ludwig's brother, and yes, he did have somewhat of a right to be here for Ludwig's departure. But after what he'd done with storming out of the house, he should stay far away from Roderich and his family. This was none of his business. Shouldn't he be taking care of his country that was_ so _much more important than family matters?_

 _As Gilbert held his baby brother, he whispered something in the boy's ear that made Ludwig back away from the Prussian._ Something about how happy he'll be when Ludwig's dead, I presume, _Roderich said to himself, making a mental note to murder Gilbert when Ludwig was out of sight. Whatever it was, it quite certainly made the boy panic. His blue eyes were wide, little hands trembling as he reached out for Gilbert to whisper something back._

 _Finally, it was time to tell Feliciano goodbye._

 _Ludwig took the boy's hands in his, looking into his amber eyes. Holy Rome would never find out that the girl he knew as Feli was really a boy – Feliciano. Although Ludwig was rather uncomfortable with trying anything romantic with the boy who would grow into Northern Italy, he had to do it for Feliciano's sake. He wasn't allowed to alter history, so he had to act like he loved the boy._

 _"You'll come back, right?" Feliciano asked._

 _"Of course." Ludwig knew this was an empty promise. He couldn't stand lying, but those were the words Holy Rome would've used._

 _"And you'll write?"_

 _"I promise."_

 _Feliciano grabbed Ludwig, pulling him into a tight hug. "Please, don't get hurt."_

 _"I can't promise that," Ludwig said softly. "But I'll try my best."_

 _"No, you have to promise. Say it. 'I know I won't get hurt.'"_

 _"I know we'll be a happy family again," Ludwig laughed, holding the boy out to look at him. Feliciano was still so innocent. He had no idea what was in store for him – the death of a loved one, unification, wars. "So, how do they say 'goodbye' in your language?"_

 _"Ciao," Feliciano replied, tears starting to well up in his eyes. He wiped at them with the back of his hand, attempting to keep his quickly fading smile._

 _"Ciao, Feli," Ludwig said, giving the boy a little wave. This was the last time the two would ever talk – he had to try and seem positive._

 _He started to turn and walk off towards Ivan, but Feliciano grabbed his wrist and held him back._

 _"What do you –" Ludwig started._

 _"I love you, Holy Rome." Feliciano kissed the boy on the cheek._

 _Ludwig was too startled to respond for a minute, trying to register everything that happened. He put a hand to his burning face, looking up at the boy. Something inside of him knew it was wrong, but that was overcome by a much more powerful thing._

 _"I…I think I love you too, Feli. No, I know I love you," he stammered, realizing that he'd actually fallen in love with a younger Feliciano. Most of him recognized how wrong it was to be in love with a young child, but there was that little bit that wanted nothing more than to stay with Feliciano for the rest of his life._

 _"Please, don't ever forget me." Feliciano hugged Ludwig again, this time crying softly into the boy's shoulder. "Because I'm not ever going to forget you."_

 _"I would never do that."_

 _"Here, let me give you something to remember me by. In case you hit your head or something," Feliciano said, grabbing his push broom from its ever-present spot beside him. He held it out, Ludwig slowly taking the broom from him. Strange, he remembered seeing a broom exactly like this – and not in his dreams. Perhaps Roderich still had it at his house?_

 _No, the broom was definitely at Ludwig's house. He'd seen it in Gilbert's bedroom, tucked far back in the corner of his closet. Ludwig couldn't help but smile – they'd kept it all these years._

 _"Grazie." Ludwig thanked the boy, going over to where Ivan was waiting. After placing the push broom in the cart with what little amount of Holy Rome's possessions they could take, the Russian helped Ludwig up onto his horse; Roderich's prized stallion that had broken his arm what felt like centuries ago. Thankfully it had grown rather accustomed to Ludwig and did not want him dead anymore. As they started off on the long trip, Ludwig noticed that Ivan wouldn't look up at anyone – he knew that he was leading a boy off to his execution._

 _"Goodbye, Holy Rome!" Feliciano called after him. "Come back safe!"_

 _"Don't worry, I will!" Ludwig turned around in the saddle to wave at the boy, flashing him a smile that only a lover could give._

 _Lies, lies, lies._

 _Glancing back at his family, Ludwig realized that Elizabeta hadn't said a thing about Holy Rome. She was standing next to Roderich, looking down at the ground and clutching the man. Had she even said goodbye?_

 _She looked up at Ludwig for a moment, watching him with fear in her eyes before finally running up beside the horse. "Goodbye, Ludwig. Say hello to Roderich for me, okay?" Her voice was quiet and dark as she looked up at the boy, her bangs in front of her eyes so Ludwig couldn't read her expression._

 _"Aren't you going to tell me about Holy Rome?" Ludwig asked, trying not to sound too demanding of a dying woman._

 _"I think what you're going to see in a moment will be enough. Listen," she said with a trembling sigh. "I know we'll meet again. This cannot be the end of the line for me. But if I happen to be wrong, you need to know that I'll always be here for you. Even if you can't see me, remember that I'm watching out for you, okay? Don't get too hurt…be a good boy. Do exactly as Toris orders."_

 _"I'm so sorry," was all Ludwig could manage to say. Death was such a mundane thought by now, but Elizabeta was not just another human. He'd known her all of his life. This was a woman that was never supposed to die – and now she had, twice._

 _"Don't apologize. It's just how things work out."_

 _"But isn't there anything we can do? Can't we mess with history to keep you alive? I could turn back around and refuse to leave. I could try to buy you some more time, try to…" Ludwig choked up, working out half-baked plans in his head. "There…there has to be_ something _I can do!"_

 _Elizabeta shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I'm dead."_

 _"Please." Ludwig could feel the tears running down his face as he spoke. "I don't want you to die. Just let me try something."_

 _"This is how life is. You get old and die. Nations cheat the system out, but I suppose eventually we will all come to this." Elizabeta managed a weak laugh through her own sobs._

 _"No. No, God, please don't go."_

 _"I can't do anything about it." Elizabeta's voice was growing faint. Soon she was getting blurry – Ludwig's mind was playing tricks with him at the wrong time. "Goodbye, Ludwig. It's been fun watching you grow up again. I love you so much more than you'll ever know."_

 _"Wait! Elizabeta, please don't –"_

 _The whole scene shifted before Ludwig could finish his sentence. Now he found himself standing at the edge of a battlefield, looking out over the horrors. Dead men were lying on the grass, their blood staining the field red. There were men in French uniforms, in the uniform of the Holy Roman Empire, and in Russian. Guns and cannons were strewn about, abandoned by their owners. Every few seconds he could hear someone taking a dying breath or a cry for help. With Ivan at his side, it was only made more disturbing. The Russian was singing some sort of lullaby to himself, his hands bloody and shaking._

 _"Ivan?" Ludwig asked, looking up at the man._

 _He looked absolutely terrified._

 _"What is it, little ally?" Even his voice was shaking, the fear clenching his words. Frantic indigo eyes scanned the field, searching for something to look at – or perhaps nothing._

 _"Are you alright?"_

 _Ivan didn't respond for a long time, but rather kept singing the lullaby. "Do you see what has happened here? We cannot go on like this. If humans would just stop this madness…I don't want to play their war games anymore. I don't want to kill any more people. I'm scared of their wars, playing with lives like they're toys. They've shot me five times today. A normal man would be dead." He looked down at Ludwig, taking quick breaths._

 _"I want to be dead. I want to die alongside my men. And I can't."_

 _Ludwig looked down at the field, thinking about what Ivan just said. Then his thoughts shifted to that woman he was talking to a moment ago. What was her name? He couldn't even remember that. It was like she was part of a dream._

 _He didn't even remember who he really was. As far as he knew, his name had always been Holy Rome._

 _And when he looked back up, Ivan was gone. As a matter of fact, the whole field had been cleaned up in an instant._

 _Suddenly he was overcome by a stabbing pain in his heart, making him crumple. Without realizing how vulnerable he'd made himself, Ludwig laid there on the grass, trying to get the pain to stop. His ears were ringing and his head pounded, but that was nothing compared to whatever was going on with his heart. He screwed his eyes shut, pressing a fist to his chest to try and stop the agony. He'd never felt pain like this before, and never wanted to feel it again. Was this what was going on with Roderich? If so, Ludwig had a whole new appreciation for the man._

 _Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could hear the sound of footsteps drawing closer to him, but that was ignored. Ludwig could almost hear that soft lullaby from before, so he figured it was Ivan coming to save him. He waited through the anguish for Ivan to pick him up and carry him back to Roderich, where they would all be happy again._

 _But when he opened his eyes a different pair of boots was in front of him. These were not the blood-stained fur boots Ivan always wore. They were perfectly shined, looking rather expensive and fashionable._

 _"Oh, Holy Rome, why must I do something like this?" Francis' thick French accent cut through the ringing in Ludwig's ears. "It seems so cruel, for such a young boy. I'm going to try and do this as fast as possible. I'm sorry if it hurts, but this is the only way."_

 _Ludwig felt Francis grab his collar, pulling the boy into an upright position. He didn't even try to struggle. It was worthless by now. The Frenchman kept apologizing, but Ludwig was in too much pain to respond._

 _His vision was so distorted that he could barely see the sword run through his stomach. But he did see the once perfectly polished blade come back out, dripping with something red._

 _The pain in his heart meant nothing now. Ludwig couldn't help but cry out – which only made Francis apologize more._

 _" I never wanted to hurt you like this," Francis said softly. "But my boss told me to. And orders are orders, after all. Oh, dear, you're getting blood all over my shoes."_

 _"Who…cares?" Ludwig gasped, black spots clouding his eyes._

 _"I do. These are very expensive, you know."_

 _"Burn in…Hell, Francis."_

 _"My, you have such a dirty mouth for a young boy." Francis threw the boy down, giving him a swift kick in the ribs. Ludwig screamed again, clutching a hand to his bleeding chest in a vain effort to stop the pain and the blood. Had Francis forgotten all his kindness with only an insult?_

 _"_ Au Revoir, _Holy Roman Empire."_

 _And with that, Ludwig's vision finally clouded over and he slipped into a painful and restless sleep. He kept waking up for just seconds at a time, catching little bits of what was happening around him. Francis left, someone came and picked him up, there were lots of scared voices, and he was in the arms of someone strong. It was all rather calming, although he was still in plenty of pain._

 _"Oh, please wake up," a voice begged, stroking the boy's hair. "Please, Ludwig, open your eyes. It's not time for you to go yet. We still have so much to do."_

 _"He's too far gone, Roderich."_

 _"Shut up! This is all your fault in the first place! You abandoned him! If you would've just stayed with him, he wouldn't be…like this."_

 _"I was following orders."_

 _"Maybe I should follow orders and kill you too!" A different voice was shouting now, one Ludwig recognized but couldn't put a name to._

 _Ludwig slowly opened his eyes, looking around the blurry world. Some man was holding him close – not the same strong man from earlier. This person felt weak and fragile like he might break with a simple touch. There were four voices in the room with him, all screaming at each other for nonsensical things. Someone had also bandaged his chest up; it was much too tight, making the pain a thousand times worse._

 _"Hello, Ludwig," the person holding him said softly. After a few moments, he realized that it was Roderich talking to him. He only knew it because of the lines of blood pouring from his mouth._

 _"Help," Ludwig tried to say, but it came out as more of a hoarse rasp._

 _"No, don't talk." Now Ivan came into the picture, leaning over Roderich's shoulder. He was rather pale, with dark circles under his eyes. "You go back to sleep. Soon, little ally, they're going to take you away. Don't fight them."_

 _"Why would you tell him such a thing?!" Basch snarled, coming over to Ivan. He took a fistful of Ivan's shirt, pulling him down to eye level. The Swiss held up a fist, threatening to beat Ivan if he said another word._

 _"Look at his eyes! He's dead! I don't want him to suffer!"_

 _"Stop talking, Ivan," Gilbert snapped, appearing right beside Roderich. "Listen, Luddy, you're going to be fine. We're not going to let anything happen to you. You…you just have to rest," he added uncertainly, looking from Basch to Roderich nervously. "Everything's going to be fine."_

 _"Where's…Feli?"_

 _Everyone looked at each other, trying to single someone out to answer. Roderich somehow got bullied into replying, saying, "She's sleeping. It's very early in the morning right now."_

 _"Can she…come…and see…me?"_

 _"No!" They all answered simultaneously. Everyone in the room – although most were in denial of it – knew that Ludwig was on his deathbed._

 _"You have to stay awake, Luddy," Gilbert said, kneeling down by Ludwig's side. His face was red from crying, something the Prussian never did._

 _"But why?"_

 _"Because if you don't…" Gilbert paused, trying to think of something to say. "The monsters in the ceiling will get you." He curled his fingers like claws, snarling at Ludwig._

 _After that remark, Ludwig fought to stay awake. He'd often scared himself senseless fantasizing what the supposed beasts that lived in the ceiling looked like, and he did not want any of those things even in the same room as him. And for a while, this strategy of frightening himself worked. But slowly, he started to lose his battle, barely able to keep his eyes open._

 _"Oh…Ludwig...go…yet!" Roderich shouted, his voice cutting out._

 _But no matter how much Roderich wanted to scream, Ludwig was not going back to the world of the living. It was much too painful and loud. Who cares if the monsters got him? All they would find was a dead boy._

 _This world he was falling into was so much better._

 _"Ludwig! Ludwig! No, no, no, don't go!"_

 _Even Gilbert screaming couldn't bring him back._

 _And just as fast as he'd faded away, he woke up again. This time, though, it was in a small house. He was lying in a warm bed, with no more stabbing in his chest. The boy did not know where he was or how he got there. There were no memories of the past – everything before this was just darkness. As a matter of fact, he only could remember one thing. One memory stuck strong in his head._

 _His name was Germany._

 _"Hello, Holy Rome," a soft voice called as a strangely pale man appeared in the room. He had a dog at his side, which interested Germany much more than the master. He'd never seen such a creature before in his short life, with its fluffy tail wagging back and forth and a pink tongue draping from its mouth._

 _"My name's Germany," he said, reaching out for the dog. It sniffed his hand uncertainly, looking up at Germany with innocent chocolate eyes. Germany gently stroked the beast's fur, smiling all the while. He now knew two things about himself – his name and that he loved dogs._

 _"Oh, is it now?" The man seemed to be mocking him. "So you don't remember anything about the nightmares?"_

 _"I know my name is Germany and that's it."_

 _Another man came into the room, this one with glasses perched on the edge of his nose and a strange cowlick. "He believes it, right?" The man asked quietly, glancing over at Germany like he was a monster. "That it was all just a nightmare?"_

 _"He bought into everything."_

* * *

Toris quietly got out of bed, trying not to wake Feliks up. This was a challenge in itself – Feliks was holding Toris close to him. He went over to his closet, grabbing a random shirt and pulling it on without bothering to button it up. Today was not one of those days where he was going to care about his appearance. When a man's on his last few hours, he doesn't care what others think of him.

 _But maybe Feliks cares,_ Toris said to himself, looking back at the Pole curled up in his bed. He couldn't remember much of last night, but after going through a mental checklist and finding that he was still wearing pants and he couldn't feel any definite scratches or bruises on his neck, he came to the conclusion that nothing he would've regretted had happened.

Toris went back over to Feliks, tucking the Pole's blond hair behind his ear. He was so sweet when he was sleeping, nothing like the emotional train wreck he was when he was awake. Everything about the man was gentle. There were no scars or scratches on his arms and chest, no number burned into the inside of his wrist, no lines under his eyes.

 _He's much too innocent to die._

Toris mulled that thought over for a moment. Feliks really _was_ innocent. And yet the Russians were intent on killing him too. Was there something, anything, Toris could do to save the last person in the world who cared about him? Surely there had to be something. He couldn't just let Feliks die without making an effort to save him. After all, he was the hero, and a hero's job is to save the main love interest.

And then he got a wonderful idea.

If Toris made himself seem thousands of times worse than Feliks, and if Raivis was willing to work with him, Feliks had a chance at living.

"Hey, Feliks?" Toris called softly, making sure he was sound asleep. After a few seconds without a response of some sort, Toris put his new, last, and probably best plan into motion.

First, he gathered anything and everything that made Feliks seem like a good person. This meant taking some of the photographs Toris hadn't burned, grabbing a few of Eduard's documentary cassette tapes that Feliks was on, and finding old letters, putting them all in a little box and placing it strategically on his desk. If he was right, the Russians would search his room first.

If he was wrong, well, things weren't going to look good for Feliks.

Next, he wrote a short and messy looking letter instructing the Russians to look inside the box and see how Feliks really is. With shaking hands he folded it up, scrawling his name over the top and placing it over the box. Hopefully, whatever Russian found this could read his horrible attempt at Cyrillic.

The final step in this mismatched plan was definitely the worst. Toris grabbed his pistol, making sure the magazine was full. He snatched the picture with "Save me," written across the back, tucking it into his shirt pocket.

"Goodbye, Polski," Toris whispered, kissing his last friend's forehead. "I'll miss you."

Feliks shifted a little bit like he was going to wake up. "Love…you too," he muttered, turning away from Toris. The Lithuanian smiled, taking a few cautious steps back.

With one glance back at Feliks – probably his last – Toris silently left his room and went to find the last bit needed for the final step.

Toris slipped downstairs, praying Raivis would already be awake. But much to his dismay, the boy wasn't anywhere to be found. Still, maybe it was better if he gathered this last thing before Raivis saw. Grabbing the ring of keys from where he'd left it on the counter last night; he pulled the lead box from its spot on the fireplace's mantle and jammed the right key in.

 _Let's see, we need one, two, three, four? Yes, I think that's right. Maybe five, just in case something goes wrong._ He shakily picked up five of the glowing syringes, slamming the little box closed.

"What are you doing?"

Toris nearly dropped all five of the syringes when Raivis came up behind him. Panicking, he hastily hid them behind the box and turned to face the Latvian. Raivis was still half asleep, rubbing at his tired eyes.

"I'm working on a plan," he explained quickly. "And I sort of need your help."

Raivis smiled devilishly, knowing Toris was going to be dead in a few hours. "I hate you. I'm not going to help. You and your miserable life can go somewhere else." He poked Toris' bare chest to make his point, turning to go back upstairs.

"Wait!" Toris grabbed the boy by the wrist, pulling him back. Raivis immediately began to struggle, kicking at his older brother. "This isn't about me! Listen, I know you want me dead, but I'm not trying this plan to save myself. Can you please help me, for Feliks' sake?"

"Feliks?" Raivis settled down for a moment to ask. Now he seemed remotely interested, his eyes searching Toris to be sure he wasn't lying.

"I know the Russian man that's coming is very angry or something. But I want you to make sure they keep Feliks alive. Please, try everything in your power to save him," Toris pleaded, flinching at how desperate he'd just become.

"I don't know if I can," Raivis replied.

"Just try."

Raivis slowly nodded, his blue eyes flickering. "I'll try what I can. But I can't make promises."

"Thank you." Toris dropped the vials, pulling the boy into a hug. "Oh, my God, thank you, Latvia."

"You're…you're welcome?" Raivis stammered, looking up at Toris.

"I have to go finish everything. You stay here until the Russians come, alright? Seriously, don't come outside. It's going to be really awful. Protect Feliks with everything you've got, okay?" Toris gathered the syringes back up, looking back at Raivis sheepishly.

"Please, if I don't see him again, tell Feliks I love him. Everything I'm doing right now is for him," Toris added, pulling his coat and a faded pink scarf on.

Raivis looked away from Toris, not wanting his brother to see the tears slowly falling down his face. He'd seen the beauty in their relationship last night – and now that was all going to be gone. "I will."

"You're a good kid, Latvia." And with that, Toris quietly opened the front door and stepped outside. After making sure the door was shut, he took off running for the camp. Through the silhouettes of trees, he could see shapes of tanks and enormous artillery guns, along with plenty of soldiers to man them. There were probably several snipers trained on Toris right now as he ran for the gates, hoping that he wasn't going to be shot down in a few moments.

When he did reach the gate, the guard opened it for him without saying a thing. Toris didn't even thank him but rather kept running until he came to the front gate. There he grabbed the sergeant-of-the-guard, giving him his final order.

"Kill all the prisoners who speak. Do not explain what is going on. If they do not say a thing, they may live. If and when the Russians get to you, tell them I ordered everything. Tell every guard to say the same," Toris snapped. The sergeant saluted him, going off to relay the orders to everyone else.

Toris stood at the front gate for a long time, trying to catch his breath. Everything was slowly starting to dawn on him about dying, and it quite certainly was terrifying. He'd never put all this thought into what came afterward – for him, it was most likely not going to be pleasant. And then he had to think about what could happen to his country and his people. Would they be hurt by all of this?

As he thought over all these existential things, he noticed there was a shape – a human – walking towards him. He carried a white flag over his shoulder, holding one hand up in a show of surrender. Then again, there was a rifle slung over his shoulder, so it might have been a horrible assassination attempt. Immediately the man had several high-power guns trained on him, all the guards ready to kill this traitor.

"Hold your fire," Toris ordered, wondering if this man had a death wish.

"So you're the one I'm after?" The man asked, slowly putting his hand down. He came right up to the gate, separating him from Toris by nothing more than two chain link fences and a narrow strip of dirt. "Toris, I presume?"

"Yes, I am. And you are?" Toris looked over this man in Russian uniform, taking note of the countless medals pinned to his chest. He couldn't be older than thirty, with his dark hair combed neatly over to the left and piercing blue eyes.

"I'm Lieutenant General Volkov. I thought I should meet the enemy before killing him."

"Oh, well, that's nice. You're Russian, correct?"

"Yes."

Toris held up his pistol, waving it a few times at Volkov. "And you're after Ivan, correct?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll make sure not to kill him. Now, run along. I have a few more hours to live."

* * *

 _He bought into everything._

Ludwig jolted awake, still feeling the sharp pain where he'd been run through with the sword. He held a hand to where the wound should've been, trying to stop the phantom pain. It took a long while to get calmed down, the man trying to convince himself that he was not bleeding to death.

Truth to be told, he didn't really know what to think. Was he honestly the Holy Roman Empire? Or was it some twisted thought of Roderich's, to try and pretend like Holy Rome never existed and simply was a nightmare of a young Germany's? Was he just reliving the horrible dream again?

But those were minor worries when he remembered Gilbert. He could still recall clearly what the Prussian said when he was saying his goodbyes in the dream.

 _"Do you know of a man called Toris?" Gilbert had whispered, holding the boy close._

 _"Ja." Ludwig figured this was just some strange question his brother was asking and didn't think much more of it._

 _"Do you know of a place called Szczecin?"_

 _That definitely caught Ludwig off guard. He tried to get out of Gilbert's arms, but the Prussian had held him tight._

 _"Ja," he'd answered shakily._

 _"What is my number?" Gilbert demanded._

 _"One less than mine. 140085."_

 _"Is this how you've been finding out about HRE?" Gilbert had asked, letting the boy take a step away from him._

 _Ludwig couldn't do anything but nod._

 _"I've already talked to Elizabeta. Why didn't you tell me?"_

 _"Because I was afraid of your response," Ludwig had replied, coming close to Gilbert again so no one else could hear. "You're not dead, are you? Because only Elizabeta is conscious of what's happened."_

 _"She said I'm on that fine line between death and life."_

Ludwig got out of bed, accidentally waking Vytautas up. The dog yawned loudly, coming right to Ludwig's side. But the German ignored him, going to his brother. Instantly he grabbed the albino's wrist, trying to take a pulse.

"Gilbert? Gilbert? God, you're still alive, right?" Ludwig said quietly, gently shaking the man.

Gilbert groaned, pulling his blanket closer. "Unfortunately. Will you leave me alone?"

"Is it true, then?" Ludwig asked, disregarding his brother's request. "Am I really the Holy Roman Empire? And _don't_ lie to me."

"Can I not answer this? Listen, I'm still half dead."

Ludwig bit his lip, praying he was just exaggerating. "Please, tell me if Holy Rome is me."

"You just had a bad dream when you were a little kid and got really freaked out by it, okay? A really, really well thought out nightmare. You've never been Holy Rome."

"No –" Ludwig was interrupted by a loud slam of a door.

"Alright! Everyone up, right now!" Toris shouted, stepping into the room. He had a pistol in one hand, looking over all of the countries in the cells. Strange, he had a bloody bandage around his head and his shirt was unbuttoned underneath his coat. And was he wearing Ivan's old scarf? "If you do not get up immediately, I'm going to kill you."

Almost instantly, Ludwig remembered what Elizabeta said about following Toris' commands. She knew that something was going to happen, and resistance seemed like a bad idea. He helped Gilbert up, letting the Prussian lean on his shoulder. Vytautas started growling at Toris, taking a defensive stance in front of the two brothers.

"Oh, so you've stolen my dog now? Very clever." Toris unlocked the cell, motioning for them to leave. Vytautas tried to follow Ludwig, but Toris grabbed the dog by the collar and held him back. The German Shepherd snapped at Toris, trying to bite him, but the Lithuanian kept him held in such a way that Vytautas couldn't get to him.

"What are you doing?" Ivan snarled, coming over to Toris. Yao was right beside him, seeming much more furious than any of them. He looked ready to break Toris' nose himself.

"I'm finishing what I should've done a long time ago," Toris answered rather nonchalantly.

"Which is?" Roderich asked, the evident hope for death rising in his voice.

"Oh, you'll see." Toris led the five of them outside, glancing around for just a moment. No one else seemed to be awake yet. It was just the six of them, the guards, and a dog. Had Ludwig actually looked around, he would've taken better notice of the shapes in the forest – the Russian army.

But to him, the world was deathly silent.

"Okay. I'm going to need you to line up facing that wall, with your hands up," Toris ordered, waving the pistol in that direction. He seemed so calm and collected about everything, despite his looks.

"…What?" Ludwig dared to ask, although he knew exactly what Toris had in mind. He knew all too well what the Lithuanian was doing. Was this what Elizabeta knew was coming?

"You know what I said. Now go."

"Ludwig, just do as he says," Gilbert whispered, putting his arm around his brother's shoulder. "Don't fight this."

"But I can't just let him kill us!" Ludwig shot back. Sure, Elizabeta knew what she was saying, but this was a life or death matter. He trusted her, but not enough to put his life in her hands.

"Do it. With any luck, he won't be able to. Remember, he's scared to hurt people," Gilbert said with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "All we have to do is play on that."

Ludwig didn't have any other choice – he had to put faith in his brother and Elizabeta. And so he did exactly as Toris said, a bit startled when Ivan and Yao followed the two's lead. Roderich was already prepared to die, but Ludwig expected the Russian and Chinese to at least put up a fight. Perhaps they were planning something?

"Get out of here," Toris snapped, letting Vytautas go and giving him a gentle nudge. The dog barked at him, biting for his hand.

"I said, _get out._ Or do you want to get shot?"

Ludwig couldn't see Toris kick Vytautas, but he could hear the sick snap of bone and the whining that followed.

"Go on," Toris hissed.

Ludwig could only pray that Vytautas was following orders and wasn't going to be shot. If anyone out of them should live, he hoped it would be the lovable dog.

For a long while, he couldn't hear or see Toris doing anything to try and kill them until he heard the crunch of footsteps come up to him. There was a little prick on his neck like he'd touched a needle.

And then there was nothing but a white, hot pain.

Ludwig resisted every urge to cry out, holding tighter to Gilbert for support. He bit the inside of his cheek until the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. Lukas was right – it was like being horribly burnt on the inside. Then the pain changed. Once again, his chest was stinging with a sharp pain, just like it had in the dream. But this was thousands of times worse.

And this was real. This was oh-so excruciatingly _real._

Somewhere in the midst of the suffering, Ludwig noticed that Toris hadn't given Gilbert a shot. He glanced over at his brother, looking for the tell-tale dot on his neck. But he couldn't find anything.

"I got the radium several weeks ago, as part of the deal for Toris to take care of you," Gilbert said quietly, answering Ludwig's question without the German even asking. His red eyes looked down at the snow shamefully. "And I've been dying for the past few weeks. I guess I wanted to have Christmas last night in case I died in my sleep."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Ludwig asked through clenched teeth. He didn't really know what to be concerned about – the fact that he could die or that his brother had kept something that worrying from him.

"Because I didn't want you to worry."

"Any last words before I kill you?" Toris asked, checking the magazine of his pistol. Was he trying to prolong the horrible suspense of it all?

"Oh, Toris, I actually do know something about that letter that Basch sent us. He was referencing a hotel in Geneva where we had agreed to rendezvous if something went horribly wrong," Roderich explained rather unexpectedly. "And yes, Natalia was in on that agreement. So if I would've told you everything that happened, you probably could've used the recognition code and got her to meet up with you."

"Thank you for finally admitting to that. Is there anything else?" Toris didn't even sound angry with Roderich like Ludwig would've expected.

"Can you please kill me first?" Roderich called out, sounding much too happy to give up his life. He didn't even seem like he was affected by the radium, but rather a bit excited to know he was going to die.

"Thank you for volunteering, Roderich. Does anyone else have something to say to Roderich before I kill him?"

"Roderich, tell him _right now!"_ Yao shouted.

"I can't! He'll figure it out, right?"

"What do you have to tell him?" Gilbert asked, leaning against Ludwig's left shoulder.

"There were some plans made to explain the Holy Roman Empire."

"Oh," Gilbert whispered before shouting back, "No, don't! Don't tell him."

"Tell me!" Ludwig snarled, trying to seem demanding through all of his pain. "I deserve to know about my own past!"

"Toris, would you please just kill me so I don't have to argue anymore?" Roderich asked, as if he were asking for something much simpler.

"With pleasure," Toris replied, cocking the gun.

The first gunshot rang out.

Ludwig waited for the Austrian to start arguing again. He waited and waited and waited. For so many eerily quiet moments he silently begged Roderich to say something, anything. Tears had started to well up in his eyes as he finally accepted that his older brother – or perhaps father – was _dead._

"It's going to be alright," he heard Ivan say quietly.

"You're such a liar," Yao snapped. "Such a cold-hearted, cute, lovable, liar."

Ludwig couldn't see that Yao and Ivan were holding hands, but he did hear the second shot. And he did hear Ivan's frantic last words to Yao. All of the confessions of feelings, the vague hopes that Yao was going to be okay, the "I-love-you's," Ivan kept trying to reassure himself until he was crying.

"What sort of monster are you?" Ivan shouted at Toris, his voice racked by sobs. "I love him! I loved _you!_ And look at this! Do you even realize what you've done?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. This is a fantastic thing, Ivan, called one-sided love. Don't you remember? You did this exact same thing to me. I love you, and you wish I was dead. Sound familiar? All I'm doing is returning the favour."

Ivan kept crying out for Yao for some time, making Ludwig's heart clench. Finally the Russian mustered a, "Just…just kill me already! Stop prolonging this!"

"You're the one I've wanted to kill the most," Toris said mockingly, the mechanical click of the pistol being cocked following soon afterwards. "But one-sided love works in magical ways – I couldn't kill you quite yet."

And with that, there was a third gunshot.

At this point, Ludwig realized that there wasn't any real hope for him. Gilbert had said they might be able to play with Toris' emotions – but really, he was just trying to get Ludwig to cooperate without a fight. Elizabeta probably said something to him last night. Maybe, in a strange way, he was trying to save his brother from some sort of torment.

"Gilbert, I am dead serious. I have to know before I die – am I Holy Rome?" Ludwig asked, locking eyes with his older brother. Gilbert shied away, trying to think of something to say.

"I can't." Gilbert was crying now, pressing close to Ludwig's chest. His breath was coming in quick gasps, as he was the next to be killed. "I can't tell you. Oh, God, I don't want to see this again. I'm so scared, Ludwig. I'm so scared. I love you Ludwig, okay? I really, really love you. Even though I lie, but I'm not lying this time. It's all to protect you. _Ich werde dich für immer und ewig lieben._ "

 _I will love you forever and always._ The same last words he'd said to Elizabeta.

"I love you too," Ludwig said, cradling his big brother.

The fourth gunshot rang out.

For a blessed moment Ludwig didn't register anything. Gilbert whispered something, but it fell on deaf ears. The shock had taken Ludwig over.

Ludwig held his brother's limp body, putting a hand over the bullet hole so he wouldn't have to look at it. He could feel the blood trickling down his wrist, covering his hand with red. And he couldn't feel a heartbeat.

He'd never held a dead man before.

"Do you know who I am?" Ludwig asked, turning to face Toris. He hated that the last time someone would ever see him alive was when he was sobbing and holding his dead brother, but he still needed to know this. "Can you tell me if I'm Holy Rome?"

"You…you are," Toris answered, his hands trembling so badly he could hardly hold the gun. "Did no one ever tell you? When Holy Rome died, he was reincarnated as you. And according to your brother, they tried to pawn off the whole thing as just a bad dream. I'm sorry nobody told you before this, and it had to be me. Truly I am. I'm so sorry that Gilbert didn't tell you."

"Thank you," Ludwig said softly, finally able to accept his death.

Because he _was_ the Holy Roman Empire. For years, he'd been chasing after that idea, and now he knew. Although it wasn't the ideal way, he knew. Ludwig could die happy now, knowing that he'd figured out everything about the strange little girl in his dreams. And in a strange way, everything was okay.

"You always were my favourite, Ludwig," Toris added.

Ludwig didn't even notice the fifth gunshot.

He'd always thought being shot in the head would be a painful experience – but in reality, it was rather gentle. There was no agony, no horrible stinging, no noises, no anything. His vision sort of closed in and everything went quiet. There was a second where he thought about what Gilbert had said in the dream, about the monsters coming to get him.

But hadn't they already reached him? They'd found him seven long years ago. He wasn't scared of them anymore.

And then it was dark.

Toris watched as Ludwig slumped to the ground, his blood staining the snow red. Vytautas got up from somewhere behind him, limping over to the man. He licked the red off of Ludwig's face, whimpering and nudging him like that was going to wake the German up.

"You're a horrible dog," Toris snapped, glancing over at the fence. The Russians were right there, waiting for him. An entire army surrounding the camp, prepared to torture him and watch his slow death. They were starting to break the gate open, filling the silence with the horrible sound of breaking metal.

That man that had talked to Toris earlier was standing right there, looking at Ivan's corpse. He had that look of failure about him, a look Toris loved to see. There was a second smaller man as well, who had just the same expression.

Toris gave the Russians a little wave, smiling to himself as he heard other gunshots – prisoners who were talking were being killed as they speak. He took a few steps back, leaning against a barrack. With a heavy heart, he took the black-and-white photograph from his pocket, looking it over.

For just a few beautiful seconds, he got a last glimpse at the real Feliks. At the who the Pole really was, with a bright smile and adorable laugh. The music from the night the picture was taken began playing in his head as he burst out into hysterical laughter.

Everything was just too much for him.

Toris never expected life to come crashing down like this. He hadn't expected a lot of things to happen. Going mad was fairly unexpected. Really, getting killed by the Russians was an entirely new idea. So all he could do was laugh along with them. After all, he was a _madman._

And in this little moment of reflection, he realized that there was only one real way out of this. It was selfish and could end in Feliks' death, but Toris was a selfish person. A very, _very_ selfish person. Selfish and insane, what a horrible combination they are. In this world, it was kill or be killed, and unfortunately, Toris had done the former for too long without any consequences.

"Why would a hero's life have to end this way?" Toris whispered to himself, smiling at the photo and tucking it back in his pocket. "What an absolutely _hilarious_ way for me to go."

He took one look at the gun in his hand, cocked it, put it up to his head, and pulled the trigger.

* * *

 **A/N: I'm so sorry.**

 **Thank you to** Red-Hot Habanero **,** FlamingFyre **,** Seele Esser Deutsch **,** SoulEleri **, and** Comix and Co **.**

 **Please review – I don't need any sympathy for my uncle, what's happened has happened and I'm okay with it – but please, tell me what you think of this chapter.**

 **I really need to know.**


	32. Ad Infinitum

Lieutenant General Volkov was blind with rage.

He hated the term "failure." It was a disgusting label, cast upon him so many times by others and even himself that the mere mention of the word made him want to scream. He'd been called a failure for simple things; his bed not being made neat enough, not running as fast as he could, not working as hard as his father had, getting a lower grade on a test, even for just being half Polish. His father was especially adamant about calling Volkov a letdown, bringing "dishonour" and "shame" to their family. Volkov tried to block it all out at first, but as many things do, it eventually got to him.

Volkov slowly accepted the fact that he was a complete disappointment to his family. No matter what rank he'd ever reach, no matter how many medals were awarded to him, no matter how many lives he'd save, it would never be enough. Perfection was the only acceptable thing for his father. So, Volkov began writing down all of his failures in a little notebook that he kept in his pocket at all times. Every day he went through the little book, trying to find something he could perfect. This, in turn, created a large anger problem, growing with each little failure.

Today finally made him snap.

He'd failed the military, the president, and the country. By letting Toris kill Ivan, he'd made this whole elaborate mission a complete disaster. It was a waste of time. A waste of money. A waste of _lives_.

So what was there to possibly do to fix this enormous error? A normal man would've tried to clean up everything, to get the now free prisoners to hospitals and displacement camps, but Volkov was not normal right now.

His mind was entirely focused on the end of the mission – killing their remaining target, Feliks Łukasiewicz.

Volkov drew his pistol, throwing open the door to the building in the forest. His arm cried out in agony – probably a fracture. However, a simple thing like that wasn't going to stop him. Sevastian followed close behind the fuming lieutenant general, trying to get him to calm down and think rationally. He didn't realize that Volkov wasn't listening to anything.

"You, check upstairs. I'm going to start in the basement," Volkov snarled, giving Sevastian an overly encouraging nudge towards the stairs.

"Yes, sir. What do you want me to do if I find him?"

"Bring him to me, _alive."_ Volkov accentuated the last word, making sure the small colonel remembered. He wanted to kill Feliks himself. He wanted to see the Pole beg for mercy and bleed. He wanted revenge; for the failure of everything, for the death of all of those innocent people, for the whole damned war.

Volkov went over to the door beneath the stairs, trying the handle. Of course, it was locked. Thankful he'd actually done something right today, Volkov pulled Toris' keys from his pocket, jamming the first in the lock and attempting to twist it open. Although stealing things from dead men was frowned upon by most of humanity, he had a good reason. And besides, he hadn't taken more than the keys and a strange black and white photo from the times when Volkov's grandparents were still young.

He finally found the right key, gently pushing open the door and stepping into the darkness. Holding out his pistol, he calmly walked down the stairs, taking extra care not to make much noise. Volkov could sense that there was someone down there with him – a sort of feral urge. He could almost hear the person's frantic heartbeat pounding in his ears, drawing closer and closer with every step.

And when he reached the bottom of the stairs, every single wild instinct of his went haywire, as there was a person tucked away in the dark corner of the room. Volkov could just barely see the faint silhouette of a smaller man, the glimmer of terrified green eyes, trembling hands pressed up against his chest as he backed as far as he could away from Volkov.

"Please, don't kill me. I didn't do any of this," the man pleaded, holding out a hand as if that was going to stop Volkov. "Talk to Raivis first! Please, sir, you have to talk to him."

"You're Feliks, aren't you?" Volkov intentionally made his voice gentle, like one would do when talking to a young child. He put his pistol down on a table pushed up against the wall, automatically losing the daunting appearance of a man in military uniform.

The blond seemed to loosen up, just a bit. "Yes, I am. So you must've talked to Raivis, right? The boy with curly blond hair and blue eyes?"

"I've certainly talked to him," Volkov said softly, keeping a reassuring smile as he came to Feliks' side. He did not care who this Raivis person was. He did not care that he was lying. He just wanted a stab at Feliks when he was unguarded.

"Oh, really? So he told you about me, right?"

"He told me everything. Even gave me exact instructions on what to do." Volkov watched on with murderous anticipation as Feliks got up.

"What did he say to do?" Feliks asked, still seeming a bit apprehensive.

"This."

Volkov couldn't help but grin when he heard the sound of bone snapping as his foot collided with Feliks' chest. Feliks fell back against the wall, gasping for air. He clutched his now broken ribs, backing away from Volkov. His olive eyes searched the Russian for some sort of explanation, praying that he wasn't going to kill him. This earned him a solid punch to the face.

"What are you doing?" Feliks cried, trying to block another blow to the face. "Please, _stop_!"

But Volkov was still _furious_.

Pulling a knife from its sheath on his hip, Volkov held Feliks to the wall with one hand and used the other to tear into the man. Again and again, he slashed and stabbed at Feliks, laughing when he cried out for help. He tore Feliks' chest up to the point where it was an unrecognizable bloody disaster, but that didn't stop him. Blood ran down his hand, making a red stain on the cuff of his once pristine uniform, dripping rusty pools onto the stone floor. With each stab Feliks screamed louder, begging for some sort of mercy.

Volkov grew quite tired of the man's cries rather quickly. Putting the knife in his other hand, he punched Feliks, beaming when the Pole's nose started to bleed. Giving Feliks another hit to the face, Volkov grabbed the knife again. He held Feliks' left arm up to the wall, ripping through it with the red blade. Feliks howled in pain, kicking at the Russian in a vague attempt at stopping him.

It was at this point that Volkov realized Feliks should've bled out long ago. And yet the man was still fully conscious, beating and screaming at his attacker. Figuring he would be dead in at least a minute, Volkov dropped Feliks, grabbed his pistol, and fired off three rounds into his bloody chest.

And yet, Feliks was still alive.

"Are you…done?" Feliks asked in a hoarse voice, slumping to the ground. He stayed there for a moment, coughing up blood before adding, "Please, say you're done."

"I'm not going to be done until you're _dead_!" Volkov slammed his foot down on Feliks' leg, smiling to himself as the bones shattered underfoot.

"Ringleader?!" A young voice, presumably a boy's, called from upstairs. "Are you down there?"

Blatantly ignoring the boy, Volkov picked up his knife from the pool of red, cutting into Feliks' legs this time. He cut rows of x's down the man's calf, unable to stop laughing when he saw Feliks was crying. Today certainly couldn't be recorded as a failure. Oh, no, it was so much better than that. He'd made up for the failure with this. Smiling to himself, he took the knife and dragged it all the way down Feliks' leg, from his hip to his ankle.

Volkov was so caught up in his anger that he didn't notice the door was slammed open and two people came running downstairs. Right as he was about to plunge the knife into Feliks again, a hand grabbed his wrist and held him back. Still intent on tearing Feliks open, Volkov struggled to swing the blade down. Finally, he glanced over his shoulder, startled to find who was holding him.

"What are you doing?!"

Sevastian had a hand on Volkov's wrist, his dark eyes full of fear. A young boy stood next to him, looking at the Russian lieutenant general like he was some sort of monster. The boy tore the knife from Volkov's bloody hands, throwing it into the abyssal darkness so he couldn't find it again.

"I was trying to finish the mission!" Volkov lunged at Sevastian, slamming him up against the wall. "And _you're in my way!"_

"I didn't think you were going to do this! I wouldn't have helped at all if I knew you were going to murder someone innocent!" Sevastian tried to push Volkov off of him, but it was useless. The lieutenant general was thousands of times stronger.

"That is our target, you fool. We are _supposed_ to kill him. Or have you forgotten where your loyalties lie?" Volkov growled.

"Please, sir, let me go. I can explain," Sevastian said quietly, looking up at him pitifully. Volkov eased up, letting the colonel go. Only then did he notice that Sevastian was carrying a small box in his hand and a letter with Toris' name on the front.

The boy who came downstairs with Sevastian fell down by Feliks' side. "What d-d-did you do?" He stammered, putting a gentle hand to his face. "Are y-y-you okay?"

"Are you?" Feliks gasped, giving him a faint smile. "He…didn't hurt you…right?"

"Th-th-this isn't about me! I was s-s-supposed to protect you!" The boy looked over the broken, bloody man before him, tears spilling from his sea blue eyes.

"I'm…fine. It's just…a little…scratch." Feliks wiped at his bleeding nose, smearing crimson across his face.

"I f-f-failed," the boy sobbed, holding his head. "T-T-Toris said to protect y-y-you, and I _failed!_ I failed a d-d-dead man! _"_

Feliks grabbed him by the shoulders, his green eyes wide. "What did you…say about Toris?"

"…He's dead. K-k-killed himself this morning."

Feliks looked at the boy for a moment, seeming completely empty. He pulled his hands back, clutching a hand to his bloody chest.

"I loved…him," he said softly. "I didn't even say goodbye. I didn't…say…goodbye." Feliks fell forward, sobbing into the boy's shoulder. "Oh, my God, I didn't…say goodbye."

"I'll explain this later. Right now, I'm taking Feliks to the field hospital. You can stay here, or you can come with us," Sevastian snapped, going over to Feliks. He helped the Pole up, bearing much of the man's weight to help him walk. He disappeared upstairs with Raivis, leaving the monster in the cellar.

It took a moment for what he'd just done to dawn on Volkov. He'd attempted to kill an innocent man. There was no greater dishonour than that. But he'd been so blind with rage that he couldn't even think straight. Volkov looked at his bloody hands and then at the trail of red going up the stairs.

He stayed in the basement for a long time crying.

* * *

The almost painfully sterile smell of antiseptics and the rhythmic beating of a machine slowly brought Ludwig back to reality. He couldn't see anything but a blurry disaster of colours. Everything hurt, especially his head for some odd reason. And someone – or perhaps two people – was talking in a fast language. Was it German? No, it couldn't be. Their words were meaningless to Ludwig, sounding quite angry and scared all at the same time. Eventually, he began to distinguish two voices, coming to the conclusion that there must be two people.

" _Ist der Krieg zu Ende?"_ Ludwig asked, realizing he wasn't in Bolesność anymore.

"What? Ah…um, _Guten Morgen, Herr Deutschland,_ " one of the voices said, a new blurry shape appearing before Ludwig. This wasn't the cold voice of a guard, so already his day had become much better. _"Sprechen Sie Englisch?"_

For a moment, Ludwig couldn't even recognize his own language. Perhaps it was the headache. " _Ja,"_ he finally answered. "Is the war over?"

"For you, it is," the voice replied. "There's nothing to worry about anymore."

"Who are you?"

"I'm Colonel Sokoloff. You can call me Sevastian for the time being," the shape introduced itself. His accent was rather thick – maybe Russian? Slowly the man started to come into focus; Ludwig could now see that he had circle-rimmed glasses and a gentle smile. Sevastian also looked surprisingly young to be working in wherever this was. Surely he wasn't older than eighteen.

"Do I know you?

Sevastian shook his head. "No, this is our first time meeting."

"Where exactly am I?" Ludwig asked, his voice barely audible. He abruptly came to a horrible realization, one he hadn't thought of before. "This isn't an experiment lab, is it? Did I do something bad?" Quickly he checked for some sort of restraints, but there wasn't anything holding him down. Was this some sort of strange psychological torture?

"You're in a hospital, in Kaliningrad. Don't worry; we're not here to hurt you. Do you remember what happened?"

Ludwig closed his eyes, trying to force up his memories. He could recall everything that happened at Bolesność, right up to Christmas Day. All he could remember was that he used to be the Holy Roman Empire, and he was somehow okay with that. And there were a few fuzzy images, most of blood stained snow. Then there was a man with dark hair, a faded pink scarf, and saddening green eyes. But who was that man? Was he trying to save Ludwig?

"I can't remember much." Ludwig blinked a few times, finally clearing the blurring from his eyes. Now he could see the other man in the room, a tall, handsome looking fellow with a black and white blanket in his arms. He was dressed in full military uniform and had a cast on his left arm – quite an odd combination.

"Do you know what happened to me?" Ludwig asked, looking back at Sevastian.

Sevastian avoided his gaze, chewing on his bottom lip. "I don't really want to say."

"So it must've been bad?" Ludwig looked over himself, noticing an IV stuck in his left arm and one of those oxygen tubes in his nose. That question seemed rather redundant now, considering he looked like he let himself get torn up by the guard dogs.

"You've been in a coma for a little under two weeks, so yes, it was very bad," the man with the blanket answered. "Lieutenant General Volkov, by the way. Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Germany, and I'm sorry it had to be this way."

"Can you explain what happened?" Ludwig asked, glancing over at Volkov.

"Try and make a fist with your right hand."

"Why?"

Volkov pinched the bridge of his nose, obviously a bit frustrated with Ludwig. He didn't seem like the kind of person to do well with children. Or people in general. So how was he so high up in military rank? "Just do it."

Ludwig tried to move his fingers, but they weren't responding to anything. They just lay there, perfectly still. He ordered them to move again and again, but the muscles weren't doing the right things.

"Do you know why your right arm is paralyzed?" Volkov asked, coming over to Ludwig's side. The harsh tone in his eyes had changed to a gentler feel, and his voice had lost its condescending edge. Perhaps he wasn't all that bad with people after all.

"No." Ludwig tried to make his hand move again, but it still wasn't doing anything. He could still feel his whole right arm, but it was unresponsive. Why wasn't his immortality complex fixing this?

"Sir, we really shouldn't be the ones to tell him this," Sevastian whispered, putting a hand on Volkov's arm. "Perhaps when the Austrian is ready. He's going to be released tomorrow, correct?"

"If he doesn't try and kill himself again tonight," Volkov sighed.

"Can someone please just tell me what's going on?" Ludwig asked, looking up at the two. He didn't intend to sound so pitiful and frightened, but the words just came out that way. After all, he'd awoken in a new place with very few recollections of what happened, two strangers, and a new paralysis – he was scared of everything right now.

"I don't really know if they want us talking to you. Sir, I'm going to go ask if we can talk," Sevastian, stepping out of the room. "Please, don't tell him anything."

"I promise I won't."

As soon as Sevastian was out of earshot, Volkov sat down next to Ludwig. From here, Ludwig could see that the man's white cast had several names scrawled on it in childish looking Russian. Volkov caught Ludwig staring, lifting up his cast for the man to see.

"Sevastian's kids wanted to sign it. This is the oldest, Akim," Volkov said, pointing to one of the names. "And Irina drew a little heart by her name because she said that I was a pretty man. She tried to give me their phone number. The littlest one, Benedikt, could barely sign his name." Volkov laughed half-heartedly, turning it over so Ludwig could see a name written in flowing cursive.

"This is my wife, Amaliya."

"It must be nice to have so much family," Ludwig said absently, wondering where his own could be. They'd mentioned Roderich being alive earlier, but what about everyone else?

"Oh, I don't really have all that much. Now, listen, I want to talk to you about serious things. Ludwig, you remember Toris, correct?"

"Ja, I do." Toris must've been the man in Ludwig's faint memories – it was not a savior. No, he was quite the opposite.

"Do you remember Christmas Day?"

"No. That's where I'm having troubles."

Volkov took a deep breath, clutching the blanket closer to his chest. "Toris shot you in the head. If he hadn't been shaking so badly and you weren't holding your brother the way you were, he probably could've killed you. The bullet clipped some nerves, causing the paralysis. We found you, and took you here."

"…What? I don't remember being shot." Ludwig racked his mind, trying to find any shred of evidence that this man wasn't lying. And bit by bit, he started to remember a few things.

He remembered the click of the gun being cocked.

He remembered someone crying out to be killed.

He remembered the words "I love you."

Suddenly everything flooded back to him like a huge and horrible wave. Now his mind was full of vivid details that he did not want – Ivan's crying, the sting of the radium, Gilbert's blood. He could see Toris' face when he asked about Holy Rome, the way he'd softened up for just a moment to tell him the truth. It was all so elaborate that it almost seemed like a horrible nightmare. Reality simply couldn't be this awful.

"Am I the only survivor?"

"You might be," Volkov explained. "Ivan probably won't live. His heart has stopped six times in the past few hours. His left eye's completely destroyed. See, it entered through his eye and somehow got to his heart, maybe ricochet or something.

"And that Austrian, he wasn't even hurt. The bullet knocked him unconscious for a few hours, but he was perfectly fine. For two weeks he's been trying to kill himself. His record is five attempts in one day – the psychiatric ward's having a fun time with him. They think he's calmed down now and plan to release him tomorrow."

"If I'm alive, then my brother has to be too, right? And what about Yao?" Ludwig asked excitedly, realizing there was a real hope for Gilbert.

Volkov looked away from Ludwig, one hand going to the back of his neck. "We found Toris dead – suicide. And that little boy, Raivis, he convinced us to save Feliks. The two are being taken care of by Basch and Ivan's sisters. I thought Feliks was just like Toris, but really, he seems to be a good guy. I wish I would've found that out sooner."

"You avoided my question."

"Yao…Yao died. We still haven't told Ivan directly what happened," Volkov admitted quietly. "The first thing Ivan said when he woke up was, 'Where's Yao?' Nobody had the heart to tell him, so we just gave him the Chinese flag."

"But what about Gilbert? You know the pale one with red eyes? My _brother?_ " Ludwig snapped, glaring at Volkov.

No answer. For what seemed like centuries, the two sat there, listening to the beep of the heart monitor.

"This is yours," Volkov said quietly, handing him the black and white blanket.

Ludwig took it from him, wishing the man would just give him an answer. It was ridiculous to try and play games with someone who had just awoken from being shot in the head. He looked over the blanket, never remembering having one like this. And whoever had stitched the eagle on it obviously had never seen a real eagle.

And then he realized that it was not a blanket.

"This is just a joke, right?" Ludwig's voice unintentionally went higher as he held the Prussian flag tight to his chest. The heart monitor started beeping faster and faster. "Gilbert's in another room, isn't he? Listen, this isn't amusing at all! Drop the sick sense of humour and tell me where my brother is."

Volkov shuddered, almost like he was laughing. "No, it's not a joke."

"Look at me!" Ludwig roared, trying to get Volkov to look up.

Slowly, the man lifted his head to glance at Ludwig, tears trailing down his face. "It's not a joke. Your brother died. It was all my fault. I was too late, too cocky, and I got all of you injured! I failed as Ringleader! I failed in the whole mission! This is why they're taking me out of action; I know it! I got myself hurt, hundreds of people are dead because of me, the mission was a complete _failure!_ "

"No, no, you didn't fail. Because he's still alive. Gilbert Beilschmidt does _not_ die. He represents Prussia."

"Prussia is no longer a country. Gilbert wasn't needed anymore." Volkov looked away from Ludwig, swiping at his tears. "Just like me. I'm not going to be needed anymore. What's worthless should be thrown out."

"He was not worthless. And Gilbert was still needed," Ludwig said, his words choked out by sobs. _"I_ needed him."

* * *

"Oh, my God, you're okay!"

Ludwig didn't even bother to look up from Vytautas. He kept stroking the dog's brown fur, praying that bubbly voice and the man who owned it would just leave. It brought up too many bad memories for him – all he wanted to do was lay there and pet his new dog, not start sobbing again. He'd begun to grow quite sick of crying, as it'd become a daily thing.

There was always something to remind him of Gilbert. From the subtle way people said something to the obvious flag in the corner of the room, a little hint of Gilbert was everywhere. He tried to forget about the Prussian, tried to erase the memory of his brother, but it was worthless. He'd tried reading through the few diaries of his brother that Volkov had brought to him in a sort of exposure therapy of his own, but that was even more heart wrenching than just thinking of the Prussian. So he'd sought his comfort in being withdrawn, spending his days staring out the window and petting Vytautas.

Occasionally, Roderich would come visit Ludwig, offering slightly more comfort than Vytautas could. Maybe it was because they understood each other on a much more emotional level – suicide was a common thought in Ludwig's mind. And Roderich was the only one Ludwig could talk to about things like that, mainly because he knew the Austrian wouldn't tell a soul.

It was rather ironic how things ended up for Roderich– he was the only one out of the two for sure survivors who wasn't affected at all by the radium, yet he wanted to die so badly. Now he spent his time comforting the two that were left.

Noticing that the person standing at the foot of his bed had not yet gone away, Ludwig finally looked up. Vytautas jumped out of the bed, walking over to Feliciano and circling around him to test if he was okay. Feliciano smiled nervously, giving Vytautas a few pats on the head. He'd never really been fond of large dogs, and Vytautas had size as well as a murderous reputation going for him.

"Hello," Ludwig said quietly, motioning for Vytautas to come back. Without hesitating, he climbed right back up and curled up beside Ludwig.

"Is that all I get? I haven't seen you for seven years, and all you have to say is hello?" Feliciano asked, coming over to Ludwig's side. In his hands was a crown of those little white daisy-looking flowers – edelweiss. Those same flowers from the meadow in the dream so long ago. The dreams all felt distant to Ludwig now like they really were dreams and not memories. Then again, everything felt like a dream now.

"How about this; I discovered a lot of things I never really knew about myself and it's all kind of mortifying and I really don't want to tell you, but looking at you brings up these bad memories again and at the same time I don't want you to go away but I don't want you to stay either?" Ludwig said in one big rush, looking up at Feliciano.

"Well, hello to you too," Feliciano laughed, sitting down. He hadn't changed since Ludwig saw him all those years ago – same auburn hair with that strange little curl, same bright eyes, same smile. Secretly, Ludwig was rather happy to see him. But at the same time, he didn't want to think of anything to do with the Italian. "I made this for you. I had a bouquet, but it was a long wait and I got really bored." Feliciano placed it on Ludwig's head, smiling. "So, what's new?"

"I'm paralyzed in my right arm."

Feliciano lost his joking tone almost immediately. "Really? Oh, Luddy, that's awful."

Ludwig tried to move his arm to prove his point. "Ja, it's completely paralyzed. They don't know if I'll be able to move it again – they have to wait until the radium wears off."

"Well, did anything else happen?" Feliciano asked. His eyes kept that hopeful gleam like there was still some good left in this revolting world. Why were people so hopeful?

"Yao died."

"…What?"

"Feliks is trying to recover from being stabbed by a madman and has a broken ankle."

"Seriously, Ludwig?"

"I got shot in the head."

Now Feliciano was becoming rather concerned, his eyebrows curved upwards. "Are you okay?"

"Ivan's in critical condition and is probably going to die as well."

"Ludwig, isn't there anything good that happened?"

"Toris died."

"Okay, there's a start," Feliciano said slowly. "That isn't really good, but I'll let it pass. So, what else happened?"

"I got a new dog. Evidently, he wouldn't leave my side. Name's Vytautas." At the mention of his name the German Shepherd's ears perked up and he glanced over at Ludwig with his dark eyes gleaming. "He used to be a guard dog. Supposedly killed twenty-something men."

"And they let him stay with you?" Feliciano asked quietly, edging away from the notorious killer.

"He passed all the tests. And he hasn't killed anyone yet. Besides, he's injured. Toris broke his ribs and his femur." Ludwig gestured to Vytautas' bandages covered in little music notes – Roderich came up with a composition themed perfectly for the dog and ever so carefully traced it onto the bandages. Ludwig rather liked the new pieces Roderich was inventing. He'd made one for Vytautas, one for Elizabeta, one for Gilbert, one for Yao and Ivan, one themed on the war, and one, surprisingly enough, for Toris.

And even more surprisingly, Ludwig loved Toris' piece the most. Roderich had brought Ludwig out to the lobby and played it on the piano there for him, actually smiling while he did so. Ludwig hadn't heard music in such a long time that it was an entirely foreign concept to him – but he loved it. The way the song jumped from flats and sharps and changed keys quickly to express the slow trip into madness, the gentle parts for Toris' love for Feliks, the parts where Roderich nearly slammed down on the keys to mimic gunshots; it all worked together to perfectly express their madman prison commandant.

"Well, that's good. So we have one positive thing on the list. Anything else?"

Ludwig took a deep breath. Did he really have the strength to say this? No, probably not, but he did anyway. "Gilbert died."

There was a long pause. "…Oh…oh, God. I'm sorry." The Italian's cheer shattered like a glass being dropped to a stone floor. "Are you…no, you're not joking. Oh, Luddy, I'm so sorry."

"No, you're not," Ludwig muttered, looking at Vytautas instead of Feliciano. Vytautas understood – he was there when it all happened. The dog knew exactly how Ludwig felt. Feliciano could only offer empty apologies. Although he wasn't able to show human emotions, Vytautas knew how to comfort Ludwig much better than anyone else.

"No, I really am. I just don't…I don't know how to say what I want to say," Feliciano said, his voice disappearing.

"You weren't there. You haven't seenhalf the things I have. You will _never_ know what it's like to see someone you love die in your arms," Ludwig snarled, looking up for just a moment to glare at Feliciano. "Don't try and apologize to me."

"You're right. I don't know what that was like. But I _do_ know that I'm here to help you. Maybe if you talked to me about these things, it'll help you," he suggested, putting a gentle hand on Ludwig's shoulder. What, was he trying to play psychiatrist? This wasn't some game. This was a real psychological problem – something that couldn't be undone with a little bit of talking.

"What can you help me with? The fact that my brother's dead? That can't be undone. My paralysis? I'll likely never use my right arm ever again." Ludwig began listing off his troubles on his good hand. "Can you erase memories? Can you give me back seven years of my life? Can you tear this number off my neck? Can you make me forget that I held my own _dead brother?_ No! No, you can't do any of that! All you can do is remind me of what life used to be like! _And I don't want to remember!"_

Feliciano looked at Ludwig for a long time, his amber eyes looking Ludwig over for an explanation. Those same eyes had lit up so many times in his dreams, laughing along with the Holy Roman Empire. And now they were full of fear, trying to find that little shred of light in this dark world. "I…I don't know what to think of you anymore. I just thought you'd like to see me. But…I understand."

"No, you don't," Ludwig started, before realizing that it was quite the opposite.

Feliciano _did_ understand what it was like to lose someone. Ludwig had never put two and two together, but at some point, Feliciano must've found out about Holy Rome's death. Even though all of Ludwig's brothers and Ivan tried to hide it from him, the truth had to have slipped out. The Italian knew this horrible, aching pain in his heart long before Ludwig did.

 _He'd lost his first love._

"Do you remember what it was like when you were a child?" Ludwig asked, dropping the edge to his voice. He abruptly felt horrible for lashing out, hoping Feliciano wasn't too upset to reply.

"Yes, I do," Feliciano answered. "But what does this have to do with anything?"

"I'm sorry I snapped at you like that a moment ago," Ludwig apologized, looking down at Vytautas ashamedly. "I was just frustrated."

"It's okay, we all get angry. If anyone has a right to be angry, it's you. But what does that have to do with my childhood?" Feliciano said. He obviously had an idea as to what Ludwig was going to say next but was denying it. Most of Holy Rome's life had been in denial – denial that he was going to war, denial that he was dying, denial that he existed.

"Do you remember when you made crowns like this," Ludwig tapped the edelweiss wreath on his head. "With a little blond boy in a big meadow?"

Feliciano looked up, eyes wide. "Stop it. I don't know who told you about this, but stop. It's not funny at all."

"No, tell me. Can you remember this little boy?"

"Is this some kind of joke? Are you still mad at me? Listen, I'm sorry if I pried too much!" Feliciano hid his face, running his fingers through his hair. "Just please, don't ask about that boy! Ask about anything else, _please_."

"It wasn't a nightmare, was it?" Ludwig asked quietly, reaching out for Feliciano's hand. The Italian took it, lacing his fingers in Ludwig's.

"It was just a nightmare. Everything was a nightmare. Everything _is_ a nightmare," he whispered.

"I know who I am now."

Feliciano looked up at him. "Do you? Do you _really_ know what happened?"

"It's all rather long and confusing to explain, but yes, I do know." Ludwig gave Feliciano a tiny smile. "I know we can be a happy family again."

Feliciano pulled Ludwig into a tight hug, crying into the man's chest. And soon Ludwig was in tears, holding the Italian with his one functioning arm. But this time, Ludwig wasn't crying for his brother or begging for a miracle. These were tears of joy.

Hundreds of years later, they were back to being their happy family.

And nothing was going to tear them apart ever again.

* * *

Ivan had never been considered an attractive man by anyone's standards, but now that he was seeing himself for the first time in ten years, he realized how much of a difference an eyepatch could make.

He held the mirror in one hand, reaching up to touch the gauze patch over his eye with the other. The flesh around the patch was an angry red, still not fully healed from the bullet. One tired lavender eye looked over all the little scratches and scars, bloodshot from all the crying. Ivan's blond hair was a disheveled mess, his lips were cracked and bloody, and the 2027 on his neck stuck out against his pale skin. His face was hollow, jaw bone much more prominent than Ivan remembered.

"Do you mind if I see what it looks like underneath?" Ivan asked quietly, looking over at Roderich.

"I don't care, just make it fast. The nurse that I talked to said you could go back into shock if you saw yourself," Roderich replied, crossing his arms. "And I do _not_ want to continue to smuggle things in for you. I may not be as high up in society as I once was, but I'm not going to stoop to the levels of a lowly thief."

"I'm sorry." Ivan slowly pushed up the patch, barely revealing the torn up flesh and large bruise around his missing eye. Gently, he ran a finger over the marred disaster, nearly working himself to tears with the pain. But this was one of those things that he had to really experience to believe.

"Will you stop prolonging this?" Roderich asked, growing more impatient.

"Sorry," Ivan apologized, pushing the eyepatch all the way up.

Ivan was never one for horror movies – he hated to admit that he got scared easily. But now, he looked like he could be the main monster in one. He'd seen plenty of bloodshed and violence in his long lifetime but never had he seen an empty eye socket before. The Russian didn't really know what he was expecting with this – however, it was not a gaping, bloody hole in his face. Perhaps he was thinking that his eyelid would just be closed, but then he realized that the bullet must've torn through that. Just the sight of the disaster was enough to make him sick to his stomach.

"You look lovely, miracle boy," Roderich said with a hint of laughter in his voice. He'd taken to calling Ivan "miracle boy" because every doctor who came to see the Russian said the same thing. The chances that Ivan was actually here now were very slim.

Firstly, someone had tampered or merely made a mistake with the radium levels – they were much too low to kill Ivan immediately. The odds that Ivan would get that syringe were one in five, and the odds that a scientist would make a mistake were even smaller. Then, considering the radiation poisoning on his leg didn't kill him as his immortality complex shut down _and_ he survived a gunshot to the head, that put the odds at a very, very, _very_ tiny chance for survival. Adding a heart surgery on top of that where the odds of surviving were a mere fifteen percent made Ivan a walking miracle.

"It's disgusting," Ivan whispered, pulling the patch back down. "That's worse than the time Alfred showed me the man whose bone broke and came out of his leg at a basketball game."

"Oh, you had to see that too?"

"Didn't he show it to everyone?" Ivan handed the mirror back to Roderich, putting a hand over the eyepatch. He was suddenly rather self-conscious about his injuries, after realizing the severity of them.

"Are they going to sew it up or anything?"

"They're waiting until the radium wears off so if my eye regenerates it's not permanently sewn shut. So until then, I have to look like this."

"Don't worry about what you look like. If anything, you're much more unapproachable than before. Which should be a good thing, right?" Roderich asked, putting the little mirror back in his pocket. "If you don't want anyone else besides me talking to you, I mean."

"Right."

"Don't you want to see someone else yet? Or go home? I can't be all that exciting," Roderich said, raising an eyebrow.

"I…I don't really know what I want to do." Ivan looked down in his lap, avoiding Roderich's eyes. "I'm still trying to figure everything out."

"Right, well, you tell me when you've figured everything out. I'm sick of this little town. I want to go back to Vienna," Roderich huffed, standing up. "I have so many ideas for my return – especially with all these new pieces. It's rather humorous that such a tragedy can create all this beauty."

"You really don't need to stay."

"Without me, you and Ludwig would be a catastrophe. Admit it; I'm the one that's kept you from doing anything rash."

"Well yes," Ivan said softly, wringing his hands. Roderich had a certain way of making him feel guilty, even when he was trying to be polite. "But I think I can manage on my own."

"Don't get me wrong, I don't mind staying here. Truth to be told, I don't know how well things are going to go back home. It's going to be…" Roderich paused, trying to find the right words to use.

"Hard to adjust?" Ivan finished.

"Ja, that's what I was looking for. Hard to adjust. It'll be strange not having to wake up so early or do any work. And it'll be a bit odd actually having some privacy again." Roderich smiled, looking over at Ivan with sympathy in his dark eyes. "But I can't imagine what it'll be like for you."

"Quiet. Very, very quiet. And that's all I want."

"Wish I could say the same," Roderich sighed. "But now that Ludwig's figured it all out, I think I'll be getting several phone calls every day asking about the boy."

Ivan bit into the inside of his cheek, forcing the memories of Holy Rome's death from his mind. Even at just the mention of the name, the images of a dying boy appeared. He could see the slash running over the boy's stomach, the glassy look in his blue eyes, how he smiled when he finally fell into an eternal sleep – just like Yao had. Ivan shook his head like that would magically erase the memories. "I'm sorry, but I really did help him figure it out."

"Nonsense. It was bound to happen, just had to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. You didn't do much more than tell him bits of the name and encourage him." Roderich looked away from Ivan, his face growing red. "His own father should've done that."

"I guess we're both at fault, aren't we?"

"Don't blame yourself for anything," Roderich said, looking back at Ivan. "I have to go make sure Ludwig isn't being mauled to death by that damned dog. Don't die while I'm gone, alright?"

Ivan couldn't help but smile. "I'll try not to."

* * *

The day of the funeral was beautiful.

Rather fitting for the dead man.

Ludwig had never wanted to return to this country – he'd made the vow many, many years ago and was sworn to it. But some things are just too important. There's a certain loyalty, one that transcends all the boundaries, about a select few people for Ludwig. And unfortunately, the dead man was one of those people. Although a hundred years ago he would've laughed at the thought, times change quickly.

He couldn't help but smile as he watched Ivan thread the poppy stems into a crown. Ivan had been making the little wreaths for a few hours now, handing them out to the little children who went walking by. At first, the little ones were scared of Ivan – who wouldn't be afraid of a giant man with scars, a number on his neck, and an eyepatch? But once he held out the crowns, they suddenly trusted him.

Ludwig found it quite strange that little things like that could make you trust someone. And then he remembered that before the war he'd barely known Ivan, and now he would put his life in the Russian's hands. All because of how Ivan saved Basch when he escaped. It was a little thing, a simple kiss, and yet in that moment, Ludwig knew that Ivan was the most loyal person he'd ever met.

" _Tutaj mała,"_ Ivan said, placing a crown on a little girl's head. _"Wyglądasz cudownie."_

 _"Dziękuję!"_ The girl waved goodbye, returning Ivan's smile.

"Seven years and I still can't understand Polish," Ludwig sighed, watching the little girl run back to her mother and start talking animatedly.

"That's what you were speaking?" Roderich asked, completely confused. "You mean it wasn't Russian?"

"No, Russian sounds much different. It's a difficult language, Polish. But once you've figured out a few words, you can figure everything out," Ivan replied as he started another crown. "Wouldn't it be nice if everything was that way?"

"Excuse me," a man said, coming up to the two. A little boy followed close at his side, holding tight to the man's hand. "But can I ask you something a bit personal?"

Ivan looked over at Ludwig and Roderich, violet eye searching for their approval. Ludwig nodded, and Ivan turned back to the man. "Sure."

"You're from Bolesność, right?"

"Yes, sir, we are," Ludwig answered, trying to remember if he'd ever seen this man.

"Did you know a Toris? I don't know his last name, but he had dark hair and green eyes and a strange tattoo on his wrist reading '001?'" The man asked. "Is he here today?"

"How did you know him?" Roderich said without even looking up from his notebook. He drew another sixteenth note, looked at it for a moment, and then erased it. Feliks' piece was certainly giving him plenty of trouble, as he'd been repeating this process for most of the morning while Ivan and Ludwig talked.

"I had a store in Szczecin. He'd come in every four weeks and buy vodka. And then he told me to leave right before Christmas. I took my family to Sweden, and I hadn't heard anything about him in a long time. Sometimes he talked about Feliks, so I figured he'd be here."

"He's dead," Roderich sighed, finally making eye contact with the man. "December 25th, six forty-seven in the morning. Committed suicide."

"Roderich!" Ludwig snapped, giving the Austrian a shove. Roderich didn't even seem to care, like he did with most things.

"I am so sorry," Ivan said softly, looking up at the man before him. "I didn't know he ever talked to people in the outside world."

"Oh, no, it's fine. We weren't really close or anything, but I just wanted to thank him. He saved our lives." The man motioned to the little boy, who was currently hiding behind his father.

"I didn't catch your name," Ivan said.

"It's Moshe, but my name isn't important. Thank you for telling me, though." The man waved a little goodbye, saying something to his son in Polish as they left. The boy turned around, looking at Ivan excitedly.

"He just told the little boy I'm a real pirate," Ivan explained with a bit of a laugh.

"You know, Ludwig, you used to be cute like that," Roderich added, sounding a bit melancholy. "And then you had to grow up and get tattoos."

"I rather like mine. And the number wasn't going away, so I figured I'd make good use of it." Ludwig put his only functioning hand to his neck, where Prussia's motto – _Gott mit uns –_ was written in cursive above his number.

"Oh, it's just me being a father. I don't approve of things like that, and you know it."

"What do you want me to call you now, anyway?" Ludwig asked, realizing that Roderich was now his father and brother. This quite certainly was a disturbing thought.

"Whatever makes you comfortable. That's one of the reasons that I never told you about Holy Rome. I didn't want you to think you were living some sort of double life or had an incestuous family," Roderich said, erasing another line of Feliks' piece.

"Well, that would've been better than lying to me for thousands of years."

"It was for your own good, okay? And can we not argue about this before…?" Roderich couldn't finish his sentence, going back to his notebook.

"Right. I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to instigate anything," Ludwig apologized, abruptly feeling horrible for almost starting a family fight before something as horrible as this.

"Who would've thought anything like this?" Ivan asked, twisting the stem of a corn poppy. "Of all people, it should've been me."

"Stop that," Ludwig shot back, although Ivan did have a valid point.

"But think about it. Really, I was least likely to survive."

"It was a _choice,_ you fool," Roderich huffed. "He didn't just die."

"But why would he choose suicide? And after all, we've been through," Ivan said, putting a hand up to his number.

"He was all alone. I think Toris really got to him at the end," Ludwig sighed, listening to the church bells start ringing.

"We ought to go now," Roderich said gently, closing his notebook.

"Ja," Ludwig agreed. Suddenly he realized how much he was dreading Feliks' funeral. A lot more than anticipated. It really was like Ivan said – after they'd been through so much with Feliks, this was really how it had to end? Everything seemed so wrong now. Feliks was supposed to be there for the three of them and Raivis. And without him, it just didn't seem right.

This war had really ruined everyone.

* * *

 **A/N: And so, our story comes to a close.**

 **Wow, there was a lot in this chapter. I'm so sorry, but I didn't feel like I could really split it all up. It would seem a bit awkward if the epilogue was in two pieces. So, sorry you had to go through a giant chapter.**

 **This giant chapter is dedicated to my father. He had the wonderful job of proofreading this with me (it was really awkward trying to explain Feliks and Toris to him) and thus gave the chapter the name Ad Infinitum. For you non-Latin speakers, it means "To infinity". Or so my father says.**

 **It physically pains me to mark this story as complete. I've spent almost a year on this. And now…it's all over. It's been one hell of a ride! I loved every minute of it, all because of you!**

 **To think that this story really started out as a little 777 word chapter that no one bothered to read, and now it's evolved into a giant monstrosity that some people bother to read! Oh, God, this makes me so happy.**

 **I'm sorry if some of you expected a different ending, but I really couldn't leave it so sad.**

 **And thank you to the people I saw at Naka-Kon! It was really fun, especially when we started an escalator cult and got said cult banned. I met wonderful people, danced with my sister and Austria, and fell asleep on the ride back home. So, all in all, it was good. I hope some of the people I met there are reading this right now.**

 **Thank you to** harrietamidala1691 **,** Fairestwarrior **,** wangca **,** TheSilentLiliac **,** Shadowmaster323 **,** Red-Hot Habanero **,** FlamingFyre, **and my darling Holy Trio who've supported this fanfiction for…well…awhile now,** Seele Esser Deutsch **,** SoulEleri, **and my dear** Comix and Co **! All of you really made this worth writing!**

 **Do not fear; this isn't my last adventure into the writing world. I have thousands of stories planned, all in my head. You kids like stories about 1950's America and segregation? Or what about the Austrian** _ **Anschluss?**_ **I have plans for a story about a socially awkward hit man, the U.S.S.R, plenty about World War One and Two, a circus, a murder mystery, a few love stories for fun, a story about space, and a Revolutionary War fanfiction.**

 **And you can expect all of my fics to be Hetalia based, because I really can't write for any other fandom. Except for maybe Hogan's Heroes.  
**

 **So, unless I mysteriously die, you'll be hearing from me in a few months. Please, look for new things by me! I promise they won't be as out-there as this. It'll be a bit more tamed. Although, I will still use a random assortment of characters, because I really love having characters that never interact (i.e. Toris and Ludwig) and putting them together.  
**

 **Many loving hugs and thanks,**

 **Polski-Doodle~**


End file.
